Just Tutoring, Right?
by awesomelydivergent
Summary: Currently being rewritten. Reread Chapter 1. Eventual Fourtris.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I first started this story when I was in eighth grade, and now I'm in tenth grade. Instead of discarding the whole story, I decided to rewrite it, although updates will be slow. I apologize for the nine month blank period. This is a short chapter, and this story will take a different direction. **

**Warning: eating disorder.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 1

**Tris POV**

I flip the TV off, its sound is being drowned in the party music next door. It's been going on for two hours, and unfortunately this occurs every weekend. My neighbor, Tobias Eaton, likes to party.

Both my parents and my brother are out doing God knows what, and I'm left alone to my own devices. Even with headphones on, I can hear the loud booms coming from the house across the street. My room is in complete darkness- the curtains in place to block out the glow from the lights outside. Quite a dreary sight.

There's no point in doing homework when two of my five senses aren't functioning.

I head downstairs to the kitchen to get a snack, maybe a sleeve of Ritz will do the trick, I think to myself. Looking around the cupboard, I find that all my Ritz are gone. _Thanks Caleb._

I mumble some profanities under my breath, and grab some Cheetos instead. I despise them but I need some comfort food now. My head collides with the top of shelf and I drop the Cheetos in a flurry. This day only gets better and better.

When the pain starts to recede, I notice that the booming has stopped. I glance at the clock above the stove- _Eleven? But that's so early, it usually goes on for much longer._

What my ear failed to pick up on, was the faint hum of police sirens in the distance. Did they finally get caught?

The Cheetos are long forgotten, and I rush to slip a spare sweatshirt on. With my phone in one hand and keys in the other, I run across the street eager to see what will happen next.

Crowds of jocks, cheerleaders, and others flee from Tobias's house in panic. Tobias stands there with Lauren and Zeke in tow, the latter two cowering in front of the officer. I'm too far to hear what words are leaving the officer's mouth, and I don't dare get any closer.

I know I should've left with all those other people, but my curiosity won. If only I could read people's lips.

Suddenly my hand spasms and I drop my phone. Great, now it's covered in mud. I don't have any napkins on me, so I carefully pick up my phone so as not to drop it a second time, and put it to rest in my jeans back pocket. When I look up again, I realize some time must have passed when I was fiddling with my phone and notice that the officer had disappeared into his car. The sirens sound again, and the blinking red and blue lights blind me.

I turn around to walk back home disappointed that no one was arrested, but it seems that I wasn't as discrete as I thought I was, in the darkness of night.

"Have nothing better to do?" Lauren says with a smirk on her face. This girl is dangerous, and yet I can't tear my eyes off her. She's the school's ice queen. Despite the piercings and choice of clothing, she truly is beautiful. However, her short dress and exposed belly showcase the body of a teen girl's dreams. She's what I want to be, in a way. No, I shake my head to dispose of the thought. This girl hates my guts, and I must feel the same way. I should just walk away while I still can, half of me wants to.

The other half of me wants to pulverize her.

I almost yelp as the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth- I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything I'll regret. Then her boyfriend emerges from the shadows. Should I be happy that he doesn't even spare me a glance? Or should I be filled with nostalgia of the sight of the boy who was once my best friend. He won't even look at me now.

Lauren is about to taunt me once again, but Tobias grabs her and pulls her away before she can. Lauren is quite scatter brained and seizes the opportunity to grab her boyfriend to spite me. I think that's what she was trying to do.

Instead it hardens my resolve to refrain from PDA. Well then again this isn't public, seeing that half of the school population once partying at his house, already left the party. This isn't even a party anymore, and Tobias will have the daunting task of picking up all the trash that litters his house.

But Tobias Eaton is the son of Marcus Eaton, the biggest businessman in Chicago. He's a rich kid, and his cleaning company is one dial away. He wouldn't busy himself with red solo cups and other things.

I walk away from his house.

Once I'm confident that all the mud on my phone has been wiped off, I toss my sweatshirt onto the floor, plug my phone into the charger, and jump onto my bed. I wish I could just say I was extremely tired and my eyes closed as soon as my head hit my pillow. That is not the case.

My insides are eating itself, and I feel chills all throughout my body despite the comforter lying on top of me. Maybe if I ignore this feeling, it'll go away. I tell myself this every time, and yet it's always there. My brain refuses to cooperate with me, and drifts back to the party before.

I would never admit it aloud, but I've always been jealous of Lauren. Well her looks that is, certainly not her brain. She's the epitome of fashion, and while anyone can stay in touch with fashion, she is fashion herself.

This is a normal occurrence, and I find myself comparing her to me once again. Her thigh gap to my thunder thighs, her flat stomach to my whale of a stomach. Her long legs to my short and badly shaped ones. I stand up to look in the full-body mirror perched behind my door. Despite what others say- they say it only to make me feel better.

My fingers run over the ribs that are poking through my skin. Next, I feel my collar bone- it appears that it would pop through my ghastly pale skin at any second. Little do they know that I will never stop. Never. Not until I'm skinny. At 5'2, ninety-three pounds is too much. It's my dream- my goal, and I won't stop until I reach it.

It's a sick habit of mine, every night before I go to bed I take out the scale I keep by the shower, and weigh myself. Every night I go to bed berating myself for not working harder- for lazing off. No one knew of the satisfaction I felt as the red line strayed from three-digit numbers.

But ninety-three is still too much. If only it was easy. My inner self tells me to burn all the food in sight- to throw it all out the window. But my body can't support me forever, and my stomach growls.

Before I can register what's going on, I'm on my knees with my face in the cupboard. My eyes are fixated on all the junkfood there, and I can't stop the urges. I claw through various bags of potato chips- it all goes down my throat. Salt, sweet, sour, it doesn't matter. The taste has no effect on me whatsoever, I just want to eat it all.

Ten minutes later after my high, I sit there, head in hands with tears steaking my face. It wasn't Caleb who ate my Ritz, it was me, I ate it during my last urge. The food that I just greedily ate sit in my stomach now, I can feel it weighing me down. A feeling of impurity washes throughout me, as if I am tainted. Disgusting. I can already see myself, tomorrow night standing in front of the ultimate judge, my mirror. Thighs touching, ribs obscure, collar bone gone. Sickening.

I'll never reach my goal.

It's been going on for months now, I don't even need to stick my fingers down my throat to do it anymore. My hands hug the sides of the toilet, and a sick retching sound fills the air. I empty my stomach of its contents. Before the pungent smell can hit my nose, I flush it all away. Minutes pass, and I am finally able to get up.

Others can call it a sickness, but I feel free.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay, I obviously didn't proofread this. So it started out with me typing away merrily on my laptop, and then I saw my phone and headphones were right in reach, and I was like, maybe a few tunes will quicken it all.**

**And then the next thing I know, it's evening, and I'm jamming on P!nk, and then begin to write whatever comes to mind.**

**Therefore, I apologize beforehand for any mistakes I have made, and that this chapter sucks. Usually I'll tell you to ignore sucky chapters, but this one's important because it talks about Tris's...problem.**

**Hm... I wonder if there's anything else I was planning to say. Guess not. Byeeee!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

Chapter 2- 

**Tris POV**

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_"First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win."_

_-Mahatma Ghandi_

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My home closes in, and I start to slow down my pace. Sweat beads drip from my head, and I use the back of my hand to wipe them off. Without even thinking, I run onto the porch and bang on the door like crazy. All the lights in my house are off, and my phone tells me it's past eleven. It turns out that my parents forgot about me, and locked me out of the house.

Great, now my parents, and my brother don't even care about me. Maybe everyone's right, I should disappear from the face of the earth. Just go to hell.

To be honest, this isn't the first time this thought has occurred to me, and it always leaves a mark on me. Literally.

One year after I realized Tobias wasn't coming back, the realization slapped me in the face. I'm not good enough, for anyone. Ever since I started high school, my parents have been distancing themselves from me, and I have a few friends, who are probably all hanging out together, without me. My brother could care less about me, all he cares about is keeping his image.

Not even my best friend of eight years wanted me around.

That's when it all started. Of course, the feeling has dimmed over the years, but I'm not certain it will ever disappear. However, the addiction still thrives within me, clawing at every inch of surface of me.

It's like I get a release when I feel the blood flow, dripping it's beautiful color all over me. Sometimes though, it doesn't feel like it's enough, like there's more I could do.

But once you start, you can't stop. The addiction eats you alive, until you no longer 'suffer from personhood'. And I have a notion that I'm not done in this world, so I keep trying.

I guess that's why my back is against the floor, in between two garbage cans. I could always use my phone to call home, but who would want to put up with me? I can come back in the morning, when I won't be bothering anyone.

No one knows about my problem, they just assume that I'm never happy. That's not true.

I remember that I always smiled when I was younger, people would stare at me. I was so young and carefree, unable to comprehend that people are back-stabbing bitches. And even if I did know that, I would never have been able to suspect Tobias to be one of those.

He was the only person I could ever talk to, I was closest to him. When I ever had a problem, he could cheer me up in a matter of seconds. Everyday after school, he would come over, and we could spend hours together, doing nothing. And when we couldn't physically see each other, he would always call, and we would fall asleep with each other still on the line.

What happened?

Was I not good enough?

Am I really like everyone says? My brain says otherwise, but I stopped hoping months ago, when everything was turning upside-down. Sometimes, I would go through phases, where I would stay quiet, not talking unless spoken to. My family assumed that it was just hormones, and what not.

I wonder if anyone ever feels guilty. Probably not, I am worthless.

So really, I'm just a girl who's:

-A victim of bullying

-Lost her best friend

-Is the most made-fun-of nerd at school

-Has no family to turn to

-Cuts

-And has psychological problems

Yep, my bucket list is complete. Note my sarcasm. Still, I got what I deserve. People would ask why, if I revealed my feelings. I would respond that how come no one else is the laughing stock of the school? I could have defended myself, I should have been less trusting in lying bastards, and I should have fought harder.

So, that was my whole Friday night. A one to remember, I thought as I felt my eyes drooping. I curled up in a ball form, and drifted to sleep.

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"What are you doing here?" My mom yells, waking me up. I click on my phone, 9:46.

"Well, it's not my fault you guys locked me out of the house! I was practically going to destroy the door!" I spit back at her, and she bites her lip, fully aware of her bad parenting.

"Look, things at work have been stressful, so I'm sorry dear." You've got to be kidding me, right?

"So, that justifies everything? The fuck mom, I didn't want to leave the house, but 'because work has been stressful', it's okay for you to force me to go to a party, which by the way, I was humiliated and kicked out of!" By the time all that leaves my mouth, my lungs demand air.

I don't wait for her response, instead I walk into the house, and slam the door behind me.

My father asks, "Where have you been, young lady?" Seriously, my parents, I literally hate them at times. They've always valued Caleb more, and don't have a problem showing it. If anything, I'm a failure, and an embarrassment to the family, said by each member at some point of my existence.

No doubt, my father misunderstands the situation, and hollers at me to come back, but I'm already at the top of the stairs. I enter my bedroom, and slam the door behind me.

This is all too much for me. Why can't I have a normal life, one where I'm _happy_?

Why do I have to put up with all this shit? Why?

For years, I wondered that, why did it all happen to me? What did I do wrong?

Why me?

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**Follow me on Instagram** awesomest_22


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Inspiration is hard to acquire, these days, so I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. I suggest you read this chapter, for a lot goes down in it. **

**Poor Tris, I send her my kisses, :***

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 3

**Tris POV**

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_"We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty."_

_-Mother Teresa_

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Sometimes, I wish I had cancer. That way, I could die, and be done with it all. It might seem weird, but I want to be 'the side effect', as John Green refers to cancer patients as.

At least then, I would have a reason to be miserable.

That explains why I have locked myself in my bathroom, but hey, at least I am fortunate to have my own! Hint: Sarcasm.

The razor lies in my palm, so powerless without me giving it the power to hurt me. Just like in TFIOS, this little razor is a metaphor.

But now I give it the power to not kill me, since I am careful, but the power to hurt me. Slowly, I pull down my pants, and take off my shirt. That way, nothing will get drenched in the dark red liquid.

Carefully, I drag the blade across my inner-thighs, making seven small lines. The blood drips down, and a feeling of relief courses through my veins. The process never ceases to amaze me.

I remain in that posture for a good five minutes, and turn on the shower, wanting to wash off the stink from sleeping between garbage cans. I place the razor back in my secret jewelry box, along with my other eight razors.

_Until next time._

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After my extra-long shower, I spend the rest of my night curling up in my bed with TFIOS, rereading it for what seemed like the gazillionth time. Not wanting to see the pity on my parents' faces, I stay in my bedroom, and skip dinner. Great, I'll just add anorexic to the list off all the things I've wanted to do.

I hear knocks on my door, either my mom or dad wanting to apologize, but I just tell them that I'm busy. I don't want their fakeness, their shallow sorrow. My brother doesn't even bother, and I'm glad for it. Sure, it stings that he doesn't care, but it's easier for me to forget him.

A feeling of tiredness comes over me, even though it's only 9pm. Not eating for a whole day can do that to a person, but I couldn't care less. I lie under my duvet, and yawn.

Before I know it, my eyes close, and I am lost in a dream.

Maybe Sunday will be better.

* * *

I instantly regret not locking my bedroom door the night before.

My parents and my brother stand before me, invading my personal space. I try to hold my tongue, as I sit up, holding the duvet over me, firmly. I am only wearing shorts, because I didn't pull on my usual sweats, so I have to hide my cuts under the cover.

"Good morning honey," my mom greets me in an overly happy tone, that parents use on their children.

I remain silent, and keep my eyes trained on my greenish fingernails, that have to repaint.

"Beatrice," my father addresses me, but I still don't look at him, "Beatrice, we want you to know that we're sorry about yesterday. We didn't know-"

I cut him off abruptly, "Didn't know what? I told you I didn't want to go. For years, Tobias had been bullying me, and I'd come home crying, but no one cared! You locked me out of my own house, Dad, I had to sleep next to a garbage can! I'm tired of it, all of it!", by this point I stare directly at all three of them, "All of you think I am a disappointment, and don't tell me that it's not true, you've all said yourselves!"

"Well honey, you should've told us that something was bothering you." My mom says.

No way, no. "You're kidding me, right?" My eyes search my mother's face, to see if she's joking. "What do you mean, I never told you? You both are always at work, and Caleb is never around when I need him, convinced that I'm going to embarrass him even more. Every second of every day, you know exactly what Caleb is doing, where he is, but me? No one bothers. I tried to talk, but no one ever had time for me! What kind of a parent are you?"

At this, my mom starts sobbing, and my father helps her out of my room. Caleb gets up, and shoots me a dirty look.

I hate him, I hate my parents, I hate Tobias, I hate my life.

And I hate myself.

Why am I so fucked up? What did I do to deserve this? I try hard, every single fucking day. I get out of bed every morning, hoping that I will have a great day, hoping that I will finally be loved. Hoping that I will love myself.

But every time I see their faces, I know that I can never outshine my brother, that no one would ever love me, that I'm a waste of time.

Suddenly, I am short of breath, and it feels like the walls in my room are tightening on me. I am so pissed, I punch my wall, but don't accomplish in damaging it.

I will always be a small, defenseless, and worthless girl.

And that's when something deep within me snaps. That life isn't worth living, that if I were gone, everyone would be relieved.

But am I really ready for that? The truth is, I always told myself, and even heard from others, that it gets better. After all, many celebrities have gone through similar situations as I had, and even worse.

Now I feel selfish, thinking how that even though I am neglected, there are people out there that have nothing. Who not only are neglected, but don't have a roof over them, or a bed to sleep on, or don't even have a house.

It's all so confusing, I can't decide on what to do!

Exhausted emotionally, I curl up into a ball onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. I can't control it, the crying.

Twice today, my mom bursts through the door, calling out my name. It doesn't take long for her to find me behind my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. She sits next to me, and stretched her arms toward me. I don't bother fighting her off, because I can't remember the last time either of my parents' hugged me.

It feels nice.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello! **

***The polls are still going, so if this isn't the story you wanted me to update, then vote! I understand that some of us do not have access to the poll located on the top of my profile page, so feel free to do so in the comments. Even PM me! I don't care how, just communicate with me some how, so that your voice can be heard!***

**I present to you, Chapter 4. **

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 4

**Tris POV**

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_"I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me-they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could."_

_-Veronica Roth _

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Only my parents call me Beatrice. And my brother.

I hate it. It sounds so formal, stuffy, so uptight.

Caleb knows how much I hate it, so he addresses me as Beatrice to annoy me. It worked at first, but then again, he does anything to mess with me. I learned my lesson afterward to never let him know my dislikes. Which is pretty much everything.

_He _knew how much it bothered me. That's why he came up with a solution.

Years ago, my best friend nicknamed me Tris, and it stuck afterwards. Tris.

Tobias said it suited me, better than Beatrice ever did.

_"Bea doesn't sound right. It's like Junie B. Jones, you both hate your name."_

_I raised my eyebrows, "And you remember that how?..." It's not the most impressive thing for a teenage boy to read. Junie B. Jones_

_He blushed a deep red, "Anyways, I came up with something. Tris. It sounds badass, don't you think?" _

_Instantaneously, a smile formed on my face, and mirrored his. "And how about we get everyone to call you Toby. You know? 'Cause 'it's totally badass'!" _

_We both laughed at that, because he would never agreed to that in a million years. Although it took a while for me to adjust to my new name, I eventually did, and so did all our friends. Except for my parents, they refused to call me it. _

The small smirk on my face disappears after I remember that the memory is an old one, one that I should just forget about. He probably regrets giving me that name, and is disgusted with himself for doing so.

He clearly showed how much he wanted to trash our previous friendship in freshman year. He kept bouncing insults at me, to let his popular friends know that I was nothing to him. At first, it stung. A lot. To the point where I tried to change myself.

Then, horrifyingly, I got used to it._ 'No one should have to go through all that'_ All that anti-bullying bullshit. They preach about it all the time at school, stupid assemblies. Yet, it's an ongoing problem.

I guess they're ignoring my situation, not trying to solve it, since they've realized it's hopeless. Don't you think it's a bit strange that my parents, Tobias's parents, and all the teachers at school know how mean the kids are to me, but no one does anything to help.

After I figured out that the old Tobias was gone, I shed everything from me that had involved him. Threw out anything he gave me. Removed him from my contact list. The only things I kept were my nickname, and our picture together my mom took, just us two in the park by our tree.

It was a happy memory, so I saved it.

The only reason I decided to go by Tris even in high school is because even though he hurt me, I liked the name. It became a part of me. It still is.

Mrs. Reyes is the only other person besides my family to use 'Beatrice'.

"But I don't want to! Mrs. Reyes, surely there's someone more qualified than me!" Wow, did all those words just come out of my mouth. Yep, hopefully all those technical words I threw into the sentence would change her mind.

No way in hell would I agree to what she is putting me up to.

"Look Beatrice. I know that your relationship with Tobias Eaton is, well, a bit rocky...-"

I cut her off, "A little rocky? I HATE HIM!" What is it with adults trying to rephrase the obvious. The whole world's population of seven billion knows it.

"First off, I would appreciate it if you would not raise your voice in my office. Second, please consider this. We will pay you, and this will be good for you. High school isn't forever, and theses few extra credits I am offering you will come in use one day." She has a point there. Senior year is creeping up on me faster than I'd like, and there's still so much more I could do.

_We will pay you. Few extra credits. _Am I seriously considering this? Although my motive would be to get the surplus credits, money isn't so bad. All I will have to do is stay after school in the library, and teach him. It doesn't even matter if he passes, all I have to do is to keep up my end of the bargain, and show up.

"Can I sleep on it?" I need to go home, to my room, and clear my mind.

"Of course. I know this isn't the easiest decision, but please think about it." She smiles, clears her voice, and continues, "I will expect your decision by the end of the week, alright?"

I nod my head, and follow her to her desk. "Here, I'll write you a pass, and you can go back to class." She asks me what I have seventh period, writes the time and date, signs it, and hands it to me. I respectfully smile, and take my belongings and me back to seventh.

_Should I do it?_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: HEYYO! Do you ever get that feeling that you want to disappear into thin air? Well, my weekend is ruined, which is good for you guys because that means I have more time to update! Now, I channel my pissy feelings into updating this story! Woohoo!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 5

**Tris POV**

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_"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."_

_-M. Kathleen Casey_

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The week passes by faster than I thought possible. Before I even knew it, it's Thursday night, and I'm still stumped.

_Should I do it?_

I have to come up with a decision by tomorrow morning, there's no other option.

One side of me is scolding me for even considering tutoring the boy who made my life a living hell, and I almost give in.

Almost.

People will always hurt me. That's part of life. You can't live in the rainbows, no one can. I was hurt, and will continue to be hurt. That fact can't be ignored. Although, being hurt by that intensity, it scares me that I am willing to forget about it, and help the cause of all my pain just for money and credits.

It makes me feel ashamed.

But also, it would be a advantage for me, the money, I could use. Especially the credits, I need those. The more I have, the better. And if that means swallowing my pride, and helping the bain of my existence, than so it should be.

Pride or reward?

I've never felt this lost at a resolve before. I don't bother asking anyone for their opinion, because what would I say? _Oh by the way, I'm helping the biggest bastard I've ever met, for money. All is good._

Damn, the situations I find myself in.

This isn't helping. At all.

I'll figure it out tomorrow morning. Yeah, my head will be clearer after a goodnight's rest.

Oh god, did I just bullshit myself? No, I made a decision.

Tobias shouldn't prevent me from getting what I deserve. Who, more than me, deserves those extra dollars, and those credits?

That's right. No one.

Just because I hate the guy's guts, doesn't mean I have to lose out on extra opportunities for advancement in my life. My pride isn't my priority right now. Getting the highest education possible is.

It's mid-tenth grade, and after eleventh, comes senior year. By then, I have to have my college application ready and packed full.

_Yes, this is a good decision_, I tell myself.

I hope so.

* * *

After a delicious bowl of Cheerio's, I head to the bathroom. Not only do I have to brush my teeth, I have to brush my retainer, it's one of those 'invisiline' ones. Honestly, I wasn't given a decision on what type of retainer I wanted.

Two years ago, after I got my braces removed, a week later my dentist gave me the invisiline retainers, and that was it.

I even have to use denture cleaners on them, twice a day.

So convenient. Anyways, I stopped using them twenty-four-seven a year ago. Now I just use them at nights.

Though my teeth were easily fixed with a few braces and retainers, my eyesight can't permanently be fixed. Unless you count surgery.

My parents would have no problem buying me contacts, but I hate them. My eyes itch all day, and those eye drops make it a hundred times worse. Eventually, I warmed up to my glasses.

For some reason, whenever I tell people that I hate glasses, they think it's because I'm embarrassed of them or something. It sets me off a lot how some people can be stupid.

No, I don't care about my looks. Call me crazy, but I feel like they're mocking me, sitting on my face, pushing down on my nose, and I'm powerless to do anything because we're so brainwashed to see how helpful they are. Right.

When I first got my glasses in sixth grade, I developed a theory.

For a week, I used them all day, not taking them off except when I went to bed. Seven days later, my eyesight decreased rapidly. I couldn't see anything, and I was so dependent on my glasses.

I don't know if that happens to everyone, but I hated that my sight was worse than before I got glasses. So I went against my doctor, and used glasses on my own accord.

I would use them at home, and in the classroom only when I had to strain to see anything on the board.

And the next year, when I went to my optician, my eyesight remained the same, while my brother who never took off his, his eyesight deteriorated. Let's say everyone was 'so' shocked.

But my smartass brother still refuses to ever take my advice.

Choosing my outfit doesn't take much effort. Everything in my closet are either jeans, sweatpants, black or dark gray shirts, and hoodies. Even though I don't consider myself emo, I fit the criteria for it perfectly.

I cut, I dress in dark colors, and I stand out. Not to offend anyone of course, but I'm just generalizing things.

I'm just a very lost nerd.

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The bus ride to school is very uneventful, which catches me off guard. Usually the kids would give anything to taunt me in the mornings. Just like every other ordinary day, I put on my beats, and turn the volume up to full blast, in case any of the kids have a change of heart.

One stop at my locker later, I'm called into main office during homeroom. I feel everyone's eyeballs on me, and I pick up my things quickly and run out of the classroom.

For some reason, everyone's being nicer to me today then usual. Well, in my book, as long as they're leaving me alone and not picking on me, they're being nice. The thing that I do mind, is that even though they're not douchebags today, all they did was stare. Even when I stared back.

I don't have to wonder over that phenomenon because Mrs. Reyes flags me down into her office.

"Have a seat, Beatrice. How are you feeling today?"

I don't bother answering, because I don't want to give the crappy, "I'm good" response. Especially when I'm not good.

She moves on to her next question, "Have you made a decision?"

I meekly nod my head, "Yes."

She cracks a bit of a smile, she understands that this was a difficult choice to make.

Mrs. Reyes is very pretty for her age. The only thing that stop people, is her very intimidating scar, reaching from her mouth to her eyebrow, blinding her in one eye. No one knows how she got it, and I don't think we'll be finding anytime soon.

"Alright then. I'm going to keep you here for awhile, because we have to work a schedule. Obviously, these tutoring sessions will be happening here at school."

Well, I guess I'll be missing health. So sad.

At the end of the meeting, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulder. Which is strange, since this isn't the most inviting situation. Tutoring my sworn enemy.

_Why do I feel this way?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 6

**Tris POV**

* * *

_Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known. _

_ -Garrison Keillor_

* * *

I am willing to bet that I'm the only one in the tenth grade without a car.

The cool winds of the AC hits me, so I wear my hoodie. The school library is cold.

Since it's after-school hours, I take my phone out and check my instagram while I wait for Tobias to show up. Knowing him, he has to get dressed for sports first. Not his fault he's late.

I chuckle a little when I glance at a tfios meme. If only I could be as popular in real life as I am on instagram. C'mon, 5k followers is a lot.

All people I don't know. I'm pretty sure I would get zero followers if I included my real name. Instead, on my instagram and Facebook, I go by the name, Katie Wright. A combination of my favorite name, Katherine, and my mother's maiden name.

So clever.

Five minutes go by, and I hear someone clear their throat.

He's standing right in front of me.

Tobias.

I make a point by squinting my eyes, and stash my phone in my hoodie's pocket. Thank goodness it's on silent.

Mrs. Reyes takes one look at us, and goes back to her office, my guess.

I take the opportunity to express my feelings as soon as the remaining librarian steps inside the office opposite her desk. "Okay. Let's make this clear. I don't like you, and you don't like me," He tries to cut me off, but I continue, "I don't care if you pay attention or not, I'm just here for the reward. So if you think this a good time to pick on me, then you can find yourself another fucking tutor. I couldn't care less. So. Let's start."

After my ultimatum, he stays silent, only asking questions about the details of the lesson. For awhile, I am reminded of the old Tobias, and I couldn't fathom the possibility of a tutor.

Only until he attempts a problem himself.

My guess, the only reason he's failing is because of his habit of skipping classes with the seniors, 'because it's cool'. Well now they're catching up with him.

Though just like before, he's an extremely quick learner, and can adapt easily. All he needs to do is to give his full attention.

I don't bother encouraging him, or saying things like 'good', because I'd die before I will ever comfort him. So he got a problem right, it's not like he saved an orphanage full of wounded alpacas.

If he keeps up like this, he won't need me any longer, and I can go back to spending my afternoons in my depressing bedroom.

But now, that doesn't sound so entertaining as it used to.

_Am I enjoying this?_

I look up to the clock planted on the ceiling, and note that I have half an hour left.

However it's twenty minutes later when I notice it starting to rain. Pitter patter. Softly at first, but increasing rapidly in the next ten minutes, until it's pouring outside.

I immediately regret not bringing a raincoat with me today.

Tobias catches me staring, and I refocus on the lesson. He has a bad habit of forgetting to label, and I have to constantly remind him too.

Suddenly, I hear a cackling in the loudspeaker, unclear at first, "The time is now three-thirty, students who plan on using the late bus should make their way to the main entrance."

Quickly, I begin packing all my belongings, throwing my backpack around my shoulder. I silently thank myself for wearing a jacket with thick pockets. My phone won't get wet. Hopefully.

"You're taking the late bus?"

I have to bite back the sarcastic response on the tip of my tongue. Calm down, Beatrice. He's being civil. You have to be too. "Yeah."

"Okay." He gathers his stuff, and I walk past him in a huff, and make my way to the front of the building. I take one second to secure all my items, and run, as fast as I can, hoping to avoid getting wet.

It doesn't work. "Beatrice! Beatrice, over here!" I turn my head in the direction I hear my name being called, and se my mom standing in the rain holding two umbrellas. I brisk walk towards her, almost tripping over my own two feet.

I've never been that graceful.

She offers to take my binders, more like grabs them. I gladly accept the umbrella, and we walk in comfort to her silver BMW. Once I am seated, with my seatbelt wrapped over me, I ask the first question that pops in my head, "I thought you were supposed to be working."

"I wanted to pick you up. It's raining buckets outside." My mother responds shyly. It's things like these that make me wonder. My parents have been acting a whole lot nicer to me lately, little things here and there.

"Thank you." Honestly, that's the only thing I have to say at the moment. I obviously know why my mom has been doing these tiny favors, trying to get more involved in my life. Pity.

I don't say anything, and neither does she. I am extremely grateful, because I don't think I could handle one of those awkward conversations parents have with their kids, bonding.

We arrive at our house, and she parks flawlessly in the drive way. Both my father's and my brother's cars are parked there too. I am overtaken by curiosity.

_What's going on?_


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Before you continue reading, here's a little something for one of my readers, ^*-_|-*+_^- [ Kaitlyn ] -^_+*********-|-*^**

**First off, thanks for reading my story! It means a lot. **

**But the plot of this story includes portraying all the cheerleaders as evil, and mean girls, which doesn't apply to real life. I have nothing against cheerleaders, a few of my friends are cheerleaders, and I didn't mean to offend you, (if I did offend you). **

**Anything said in this fanfic, or any of my other ones, that offends anyone, well, don't be offended. The cheerleaders are presented that way in this story to build tension, and for no other reason.**

**Please don't take this literally. I am not trying to offend anyone.**

**Here's Chappie 7!**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 7

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"If you're going through hell, keep going." _

_-Winston Churchill_

* * *

Something I didn't notice before, how big our driveway is. Four cars are parked in it, with plenty of space for another vehicle. I recognize the two other cars, but the third one is a sleek black Mercedes-Benzes, that looks pretty pricey.

The rain ceased a few miles ago, so there was no worry about getting soaked. All that was left was the few raindrops. My mom unlocks the front door, and we step into the mudroom. My sneakers squish with each step, so I place them on the radiator thing on the bottom of the wall. I really don't even know what it is, but I really like it. Whenever my shoes are wet, I can just place them there, and a few hours later, they're dry.

As soon as we step into the living room, mom locks her gaze on my father, who is conversing with a tall, intimidating man, with a large bald spot, and a permanent frown imprinted on his face.

"Hello Natalie, Beatrice. Come. Sit." My father pats the couch cushion, his jaw clenched. My brother stares with eyes wide open at me, and I can't help but feel like their stares are seeping into me, burning holes through my body.

My mother puts on a very fake smile, and attempts to shake hands with the emotionless man, but he just shoos her off. Rude.

"This is Beatrice Prior?"

"Yes, that's me." I fight the urge to drop the formality, but something about that man tells me that he's not going to take that kind of response.

"Are you acquainted with Lauren Wachsberger?" An _uh oh_ thought appears in my head. If she's involved in this, than I have a lot to be afraid of.

I nod my head solemnly, and avoid the curious gazes of the rest of my family. "Is it true that on Friday, May 2nd, 2014 around nine pm, you attacked Ms. Wachsberger?" Oh god. That bitch did this? So the man standing in front of me, is her lawyer?

Snarkily, I respond, "I did not attack her!" Shock crosses my parents faces, but my brother has the look of pure boredom nailed.

"Did you, or did you not cause these scratches on Ms. Wachsberger?" He pulls out three photos out of a manila envelope I didn't notice earlier.

"She attacked me out of nowhere! I was trying to get her off of me!" Great, and I thought things were getting better for me. _Wait a minute_. Is that the reason why everyone at school avoided me like the plague today? Because they thought I hurt the school's head cheerleader and biggest slut? That I was to be feared?

The scary lawyer dude continues, but I block out what he's saying. It doesn't matter, because my parents are responding to his questions for me.

Is it not enough that Lauren gets to ridicule me silly all the time, and stole my best friend, now she's going to get me in trouble within legalities. That...that...I don't even have a word to describe her.

She's an ice queen bitch.

That everyone fears, and that everyone wants to befriend.

Damn her. I hope she freaking burns in hell. She just can't leave me alone, can she? She has to prove to everyone that I am not of worth. That I'm just someone she can assault, and how everyone else who cares about their social status, which is pretty much everyone, should let her get away with it, and even join in making fun of me.

Only this isn't some petty argument where she insults me a few times and goes off laughing, and leave me wondering what I did wrong. No.

She's got the law on her side.

* * *

By the end of the day, a restraining order is in place, stating that I cannot get within twenty feet of "Ms. Wachsberger", god, have I ever been this sick of hearing her name.

One thing I am thankful for, my parents aren't quick to put their fingers on me. There's nothing more that I want to do right now than to disappear into my bedroom, and to never emerge again, but that's not an option if I want my parents on my side.

Although it takes a while, I explain that I, in fact, did not attack Lauren. And that she started scratching back, and only acted in self-defense. I mean, what was I going to do? Let her claw my face out?

And at the end of the hour-long discussion, my parents for once, were understanding, not blaming me.

That was all I needed.

* * *

fwfwgw The only thing that stumps me, is that Tobias didn't say anything about his bitchy girlfriend today, defending her, when he saw me. I forget that my phone is in my pocket, because during dinner, it starts playing my ringtone which is the Attack On Titan theme song.

The Japanese version.

Let's just say no one was expecting that. We're not allowed to use our phones while we eat, so I was stuck wondering who called me.

My mother's voice pulls me back into reality, "Beatrice, I know you won't like this, but the Eatons are coming over for dinner tomorrow. You don't have to talk to Tobias, but he'll be over too, with his parents."

I set my glass on the table, and look at my mom, mouth wide open. Really? Really?

This week could not get any worse.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: This chapter was extremely hard to write. **

**One reason being, I just couldn't get my feelings down, so everytime I reread it, it sounds shallow and emotionless. I try rewriting it, and editing it, but it wasn't right.**

**I'm sorry. But I had to post it. I didn't want to leave it like that, not knowing when I'd get a chance to update this again, so I'm apologizing now for my suckish chapter.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 8

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"In case you didn't know, dead people don't bleed. If you can bleed-see it, feel it-then you know you're alive. It's irrefutable, undeniable proof. Sometimes I just need a little reminder." _  
_― Amy Efaw,_ _After_

* * *

So not only do I have to see the devil's face on Thursdays, now on Tuesdays too. Wonderful.

As if my life didn't suck enough already.

"Why?" I almost choke on the rice. My brother looks at me like I'm crazy, which is true. I'm the craziest person I know.

I don't know much people.

My parents stay silent, and I immediately know why.

They want me and him to make nice-nice.

"No. No way. Why would you do this?" I stammer, not wanting to believe that they're capable of being this...stupid. Anything but confrontation. It's the last thing I need.

"Beatrice, we thought this would be a good opportunity for the two of you to work out your differences." My father says, uncertainty present in his voice.

Still, my mother says nothing, keeping her eyes trained on her plate. I feel nothing but hatred towards my parents. Nothing I do can ever prove myself to them. In their eyes, I am a blemish to their perfect family. After counting to ten and practicing breathing exercises, I let my eyes meet theirs.

I try my hardest to remain civil, which is pretty much not yelling and not cursing.

My two favorite things.

"You really think that's the solution? Tobias has been bullying me for years, and got the whole school on his side. You think that it's all going to go away with one dinner party?" Do they really believe that? All I can do is stare at my father.

"Well maybe you should try being a bit more amiable. Don't you think you're being a little harsh on Tobias?" As soon as the words leave his mouth, I feel sick to my stomach. Like someone just punched me in the gut.

The meaning in that speaks loud and clear to me. There's no need for elaboration, or further explanation. All the anger bubbles up inside me, and I have to remind myself not to do anything drastic.

My parents don't even believe me. They're blaming me for it.

All these freaking years, they thought that I was the reason for my own misery, that Tobias had no fault. I just can't understand what I did to deserve this. Any of this.

Why did everyone turn their backs on me? I refused to admit it for years, hoping that there was still someone out there, anyone.

How was I so blind to miss it?

No one, not even my parents, are truly on my side. They never were.

_I __really am alone._

Without an ounce of sympathy for them, I get up and walk to my bedroom, ignoring their voices calling me back.

Once the door is locked, my vision blurs, and I feel the teardrops staining my face. I collapse to my knees, my back against my door. The sobs take over and the realization sinks in.

_No one believes you. No one cares about you._

"Stop it!" I yell at the voices in my head. "I don't need anyone!" That's right. I don't need anyone. I can get by just fine by myself.

_I don't need anyone._

The walls start caving in on me, and a faint ringing is in my ears. I try to stand, walking to the bathroom.

Then he steps out.

His mouth is moving, but I can't make out the words.

Then he gets louder, filling my ears with his booming voice, warping it's way all around me.

"Have they finally realized that you're worthless, bitch?"

Worthless.

"Stop it! Just leave me the fuck alone!" I growl at him, pushing that memory from my head.

I don't need people. I don't.

What's the big deal anyways? If my parents have always felt this way, they've showed it already! I shouldn't let it affect me.

What was I thinking anyways? That they loved me?

Yeah right.

I cringe at the thought. It wasn't always like this. I used to have friends. I used to smile.

I used to be happy.

All of that was taken away, two years ago. And I don't even have a clue why.

It would've been nice, to have caring parents. Parents that would praise me, instead of being ashamed of me.

Parents who loved me.

The crying starts all over, and I curl up into a ball.

I don't know how much time passes by.

Five minutes.

Twenty.

An hour.

Two hours.

Tired of it all, I get up, trudging my way into my bathroom. Gently, I shut the door behind me, and start to peel my wet clothes off of me.

My breathing is ragged, and it seems my lungs aren't pumping enough oxygen.

Dizzily, I fall to the floor, and grab the toilet, retching all my contents held in my stomach into it. The stench enters my nose, and brings tears to my eyes.

What is wrong with me?

Laughing like the there's not tomorrow, I slide my long nails under my secret loose tile, a few steps away from my current location. After a little wiggling, it comes out. Underneath it, is a pitch black clipboard, turned upside down to prevent the clasps from allowing the tile to sit on top, seamlessly.

I prop the once used clip board, revealing a beautiful wooden box, with floral patterns carved into it. Given to me long ago, it had no purpose.

But with nowhere to place my razors, the box was perfect. No longer sitting empty, useless.

It holds my most deadly possessions.

All my razors. Eight to be exact.

I pick my favorite out, and reseal the box, placing it back in it's hole.

I enter my bathtub, so the blood would be easier to clean up. Carefully, I use the razor to slice my skin, but it isn't enough.

One cut.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Stray marks are too little. More.

More.

And I have an idea. Head bent over in an uncomfortable position, I carve one word into my inner thigh. The blood flows out, the dark liquid filling the tub, covering my legs.

A few minutes later, the blood clots up, leaving my newest mark visible. I suck in my breath, and admire it.

_Loved._


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: This chapter sucks. Like, I didn't feel any emotion when rereading this. I apologize. But you should read it. A major change is about to take place.**

**Oh yeah, and try to guess where a certain fandom reference is in this chappie! If you're a fan of +++ you'll know what it is! :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 9

**Tris POV**

* * *

_Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations. _

_-Faith Baldwin_  
_**  
**_

* * *

I find myself having to fight the urge to rub my hand against my newest wound every five seconds.

From far away, it looks like I am trying to get off of myself in class.

Well how could my reputation get any worse?

That's right, it can't. Tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Eaton are coming over for dinner, and bringing their bastard of a son. All the possible outcomes of tonight run through my mind, and it makes me anxious.

No doubt Tobias will try to ruin my day somehow, and in front of our parents, so he won't get in trouble. I wonder if his slutty girlfriend is coming over.

Surprisingly, it is extremely easy to obey the restraining order I was put on. I don't have to see Lauren's caked-face.

Other than lunch, she's not in any of my classes anyways. Being a nerd does that.

Sometimes though, there are a lot of negatives of being ahead of most people. Unlike other honor students in the tenth grade, it was decided I was too good for Algebra 2, so I was put into Calculus AB.

I can't pay attention now.

The dangers of tonight are lurking in the back of my brain, and ignoring them is impossible. Instead, I concentrate on tracing the word on my inner thigh, repeatedly.

With each touch, a rush of electricity runs through me.

Since the incident yesterday, I have been avoiding my parents at all costs, which wasn't really hard. Not even twenty four hours, and they've lost all hope in me.

I try to pretend that this is what I want.

Slipping in and out of my bedroom doesn't require being sneaky, because my parents are out or working, and god knows what Caleb is doing.

Doodling on my notes seems like a pretty good pastime, so I draw knives, and ravens. Or marshmallows. I'm not an artist.

The day goes by quickly, and I keep wishing for longer classes, for all the clocks in the world to simultaneously stop working. I'm dreading tonight, yet it's approaching at a scary rate.

Soon enough, I'm standing outside of my house, key in hand, opening the front door. Not bothering to check if Caleb's car is in the driveway, I make my way to my bedroom, and drop my stuff in a pile by the door.

Honestly, I don't have OCD, but I just can't do anything in my house unless I take a shower. I used to attempt homework, studying, or reading, and I just couldn't concentrate unless I was clean.

So to the bathroom it is.

* * *

Luckily, I don't have much homework, and nothing to study for. This is making my day somewhat better.

After hours of staring at the small screen in my hands, I'm overcome by boredom. My eyes flick to the clock on my wall, and I decide to get dressed for tonight.

I hear a thump come from my brother's room, and an "Oh shit!" from that general direction. _What's going on there?_

Lately, my brother's been acting a bit... different. I can't explain how I know, since I don't know him that well. But living with him for sixteen years have made me notice when something's wrong. Like he's in some sort of deep shit.

The rumors at school are a bit scary.

Now, I do care, even just a little. I hope things can get better. I don't need anymore drama.

Heading down the stairs, my ears prick at the sound of the front door opening, mostly because the alarm states, "Front door, open.". My mother greets the Eatons, and leads them in, even though they've been to our house billions of times.

The politeness makes me want to puke. Seriously.

Before he can see me, I turn away, and enter the kitchen to get some water.

When I return, my parents keep a neutral expression on their faces, trying to make the tension between us unnoticeable.

Our families split, the Eatons sitting on one side, and us on the other. My dad, and Mr. Eaton sit at the ends.

Every time, I have to bring over an extra seat, because our dining table is one seat short of seven guests. Dinner isn't anything special, I just bite and try my hardest to swallow the flavorless food without protest.

"How are you Beatrice? How's school?" Evelyn asks, though only out of politeness. She couldn't care less about me. The same goes for everyone else's thoughts about me.

"I'm fine. School's good." School's not good. Paying attention is harder these days, and I have to see bitch-face on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. In gym, I have to be extra careful when changing, so not to reveal my cuts. The girls who make it to the bathroom stalls first take ten minutes to change.

Wearing shorts aren't an option anymore, because the slightest movement gives a sneak peak of my wounds.

Our parents keep up the small talk, and it fills me with nausea, how fake everyone is. Strangely, Tobias is expressionless, and I catch Marcus frowning at him every few minutes. I wonder what's up with that.

And then the bomb is dropped.

"We're expecting." Mrs. Eaton is smiling, and so do my parents. However, Marcus and Tobias look like they'd rather be anywhere but here. No one notices, so I dismiss it.

Great, another jackass Eaton. He or she will most likely side with their brother and make my life miserable.  
I mean, more miserable.

I can't imagine what it would be like to have your mom tell you that she's pregnant, when you're already sixteen years old. Actually, I don't want to imagine.

After dinner, our families head to the formal living room, which means that I don't have to come. They'll probably just talk about, like, the endless wonders of the weather, and whatnot.

It scares me to think that's my future.

My feet take me to the porch, and soon, I find myself walking off and lying in the grass. The stars twinkle in the sky, and I can't help but feel mesmerized by the beauty of it all.

The world is cruel and unforgiving.  
Yet so beautiful.

* * *

I don't have a clue for how long I just laid there for, staring at the stars above me. And the most unexpected thing happens.

He comes outside, and lays on the grass a few feet from me, not bothering to acknowledge me. I'm glad Tobias does that, because I don't think I can handle him talking to me. Not this late at night.

Throughout this whole week, he's been avoiding talking to me at all costs, unless it was necessary. And now he's laying here next to me.

I'm almost certain that he's going to get up and leave, when I hear him say, "You could see a million more stars in the sky outside of Chicago."

Wait, so now the asshole is talking to me? "What the hell is wrong with you?" I don't waste any elaborate explanation of my confusion. He doesn't deserve that much.

A few minutes pass, and he says, "That one's the Orion Belt." He points to a cluster of bright stars.

This is really freaking me out.

What

Is

Going

On?

Either I need a therapist, or I'm getting a glimpse of the old Tobias. Which, I thought was very impossible.

I don't even know how to respond, because I am so stunned. How do you expect me to act, when your sworn enemy, who you hate to no level and the feeling is mutual, suddenly starts treating you like a human being instead of a piece of trash.

Not wanting to make a fool of myself, I stay dead quiet. A few smartass remarks enter my mind, but I don't want to piss him off just yet. Everything I once knew as normal, is shaken up. Something's up.

And I want to now what.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 10

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"Do what you will, this world's a fiction and is made up of contradiction."_

_-William Blake_

* * *

My question gets answered the following week.

Caleb was arrested.

For suspected possession of Adderall and Ritalin.

At first I was confused, because I had no idea what those drugs were. Apparently, they're this new "studying pill", that helps increase concentration and focus, making it easier to study in cram sessions.

Of all the things that Caleb could be doing, being a drug dealer is the last thing that would've crossed my mind. He was so smart, but what he did, was so...stupid.

I felt awful for the next few days, knowing that my brother is now a criminal, and all for such a stupid cause. He's already intelligent, what was he doing selling study pills?

My feelings are mirrored by my parents a hundred times more. The reason why hurts, but it's the truth. They already have the worst child possible, me, and now their most beloved one is now facing federal charges.

They must hate me for it.

Now, my parents won't even look me in the face, and I can bear it to look into their eyes. The one time I did, pain and disappointment was clearly etched into their expressions.

Not more different than last week, I remain in my bedroom, only leaving in the mornings to go to school. Everyday is a lonely one for me, and it feels like my body is eating itself alive.

Probably because of the game I have been playing with myself.

Basically, I'll see how long I can go without eating something, just stay cooped up in my bedroom, not leaving until I can't bear the pain of a hallow stomach.

Then, I manage to swallow a granola bar, or something else tasteless.

I prefer not to call myself anorexic, because that's not what I am. I do not care about my figure, and I do not binge. No throwing up, no overeating.

My reason for this is because I want to stay in the comforts of my bedroom, never to see the outside world. I don't have an eating disorder, I argue with myself.

It brings tears to my eyes, because I know how much of a lie that is. In one week, I've lost four pounds, and my bones are protruding from my body in places which used to be covered in fat and muscle.

My cheeks are even more hollowed, and my eyes have a sunken appearance.

I don't stop.

The Eatons come by, offering condolences, and all that other shit. My parents converse, how they never knew, hinting that it wasn't their faults.

Bullshit.

If my parents were more involved in our lives, and showed more love, my brother wouldn't be behind bars. I wouldn't be an anorexic cutter.

Everything would've been different.

* * *

Somehow, I still manage to keep up my grades, and actually, improve upon them. High school isn't forever, and once it's over, I can leave behind this depressing city, and fulfill my dreams.

And then, this will all be just a bad memory.

Having nothing to do, with countless hours going by, I realize how talented I am.

The old guitar sitting in the corner of my closet, is now standing tall, freshly tuned. Everyday I practice, play a few songs, and work on the next thing.

These activities, take my mind off the current issues in my world.

Sadly, it's not a permanent replacement.

Anyone who is a close contact with Caleb, is being interrogated, and mine is tomorrow. Even though I know as much as the next guy does, they still won't let us off the hook, and I am going to be questioned.

Obviously I'm innocent, but it's still nerve-racking that I am believed to be possible-apprentice to the crime. That's the legal system for you. Making you uncomfortable to the point where you are fighting to find right and wrong.

I'm sure I am the only one who noticed, but Tobias has been missing school a lot, lately. Not skipping one or two classes with his idiotic friends, but disappearing for days at a time, and coming back looking like he's been through hell.

I can't say I pity him.

He's been blowing off our tutor sessions, which pisses me to no end. I have to stay afterschool, and since I don't have a car, I can't drive myself home when I know I've been ditched. I have to wait until the three thirty bus, which means I have to wait an hour, walking aimlessly around the school.

I contemplate not showing up anymore, but I have the worst luck, and I'm pretty sure that the day I would've skipped, he'd be there, and I'd get in trouble for not keeping up my end of the deal.

The librarian expresses her pity for me.

* * *

Again, it crosses my mind to just walk out while I have the time to make it to the bus, but the devil appears, making his way over sheepishly.

He pulls out the chair, and sits. I just stare, seething, wondering where the hell he's been this whole time.

I decide to play it, "So you decided to show up today. Your so considerate, you know, skipping whenever you want." I tilt my head to the side, and flash a fake smile.

His eyes remain trained on the table, and me baiting him doesn't work. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, and stare at him for a few seconds, before getting started on the lesson.

The whole time, he stays quiet, occasionally nodding his head and looking over my shoulder to see the work for the answer.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that his head is somewhere else now.

Especially when I have to snap my fingers in his face two times to catch his attention. "Dude. I don't have the time for this," I start to get up, but he just looks up at me, without blinking.

Sadness is written on his face.

"I don't care if I'm boring, you have to fucking listen to me, or you'll fail." I practically growl at him, and he mutters an apology.

I have to bite back my retort. Why the hell is he acting so quiet? What happened to all the remarks he would make, insults? Did it all just disappear into thin air?

"Are you up for this, or not?" Not much anger is put into that, but I ask out of curiosity.

He bobs his head up and down, exaggerating it as if I was hard of sight. I waste no time getting back into the lesson, mashing every detail possible into his head.

The minute hand quickly on my wristwatch approaches 3:30, and soon enough, the announcement for the late buses comes on. Packing my things, I stand up, and don't look back.

Tobias just remains seated, staring at the notes in front of him.

I dismiss it, thinking he's just doing a bit more studying.

How wrong I was.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: 69 REVIEWS! Hehehe, if you know what I mean...**

**I feel bad for updating once in a blue moon, but you guys have to understand that I have to study for my regents and finals. I just came home from freaking school on a Saturday. Yep. **

**Between now and July, (which isn't long) I'll be updating more frequently, because this summer I'll be going somewhere without wifi. I'm sorry, but I'd give up wifi to go with my family to the Mediterranean Sea. Sorry.**

**ANYWAYS, I decided to update again. A lot goes down in this chapter, well things are explained. Then something happens. ReAd oN mY FeLlOw rEaDerS!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 11

**Tris POV**

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_"He who cannot forgive others destroys a bridge over which he himself must pass."  
\- George Herbert_

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For the first time ever in history, the Eatons don't come over for dinner this Thursday. Not only that, but the moment I step into the dining room, my parents look away, get up, and take their plates elsewhere. My mom ate in her office, and my dad in his.

I sit at that table alone, fork and knife in hands. A sad sight, really. I didn't know that they were that pissed. Nothing I can do about it, though. I am who I am, and if they can't accept that, then they can screw themselves. My full plate sits in front of me, reminding me that it's getting cold. Slowly, I take pieces of salad to my mouth, not wanting to shock my body too much, eating for the first time in days.

The interrogation wasn't as bad as I imagined, but I definitely don't ever want to do it every again. My brother future is screwed though, because his offence is taken very seriously. Although Caleb has never gotten in trouble with illegalities before and that he's a minor, his sentence is five years, and bail is at 250K.

My parents don't have that kind of money.

I cannot believe how stupid Caleb was, how he let himself go down that road. Even five years later, his life would never go in the direction he planned. He will forever be a criminal, and will have lost countless opportunities.

I want nothing more than to slap him. I settle for an air slap, causing me to wheeze.

Lately, moving around or just walking a few steps makes me breathe hard, so I stay planted in my seat. I have to eat, because I don't like the feeling, of being weak and these constant migraines.

I already have a enough going on in my life. Dying from malnutrition is not something I want to do.

Mostly because no one would care. Especially my parents. I'm sure that if I were to drop dead, they'd be happy. One less burden to deal with.

Dinner is quiet that night.

* * *

"Nothing's good on TV these days." I mutter to myself. And it's true.

Uncle Grandpa. Seriously, I mean what the hell?

"Giant Realistic Fly-" I turn off the TV before the character has the chance to finish his sentence.

This feeling of boredom is really getting to me, and I want nothing than to run around the house and scream on the top of my lungs.

Instead, I settle for going for a walk. I mean what could happen, right? It's only eleven pm.

When rapists and molesters wander the streets.

I block that thought from my head.

Once my phone and keys are in my hand, I push open my door and make my way downstairs. Neither of my parents have left the comforts of their offices, and I am glad. I don't think I can face them again.

Mosquitos surround me, and I silently thank myself for wearing a sweatshirt, that's ten times bigger than me. My jeans droop, and if it weren't for my sneakers, would drag across the ground.

Unable to contain myself, I break out into a run pumping my legs, then fall face first. I forgot that I was still in no condition to do anything requiring cardio strength. Something I lacked.

Oh well.

After rearranging myself into a more comfortable position, I currently rest on my shoulders, legs spread out in front of eyes look up to the sky above me, and gaze at the stars. Suddenly, Tobias' words enter my head again.

I wonder what a sky would look like somewhere out of Chicago.

One day I'll know.

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An hour passes, and I am comforted by the aura of the glowing fireflies. The scene is so pretty, I almost take out my phone to snap a pic, only to remember that I'll see nothing but darkness.

_Probably should start to head home, _I think. My feet refuse to take me to the house in front of me, and instead start to walk down my street.

Not even two houses later, I am out of breath, and begin to feel faint. _God what did I do to my body?_

And then I see a remarkable sight.

On his porch, he's sitting, curled up into a ball. Before I have time to react, he senses someone's eyes on him, and he lifts his face to see who.

Me.

I begin to back away, not wanting to hear the insults he has ready to throw at me.

But instead of following my plan, I trip over my shoelace, and fall right on my butt. Now he'll be laughing for sure. Didn't think it was possible, but my day actually got worse.

I breathe in and out, then push myself up only to fall again. What's wrong with me?

On my third attempt to get up, I succeed, only to hear my name being called.

"Tris, you okay?"

My eyes widen at this. Is this some sort of game. Why is everyone messing with me?

"Shut up, just shut up!" I cup my ears with my palms, trying to block out the ringing. Suddenly, I gasp out of breath, as if someone kneed me in the guts. Unable to control my body, my legs collapse from under me, and my body slams to the floor. _What's going on? Why is the world spinning? Why is everything black?_

_Why can't I move?_


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: I'm so sorry for making my updates so far apart, I always told myself that I'd never be one of those authors. And guess what. ****I am one.****And I'm sorry.**

**Now for the complaints. If having regents and finals this week isn't enough stress, I had to study for my history final tomorrow. Doesn't sound so bad, right?**

**WRONG.**

**I hate history with all my heart. History and English are my most-hated subjects, and everyday in class, I want nothing more than to get up and scream and make everyone's ears bleed.**

**Seriously, my favorite classes are math and science, cause it's the same everywhere in the world. No matter where you are, 2+2=4, and I just love that about it. Unlike in social studies, where I don't get anything, cause everything goes in one ear and comes out the other side of my head, and all I hear is blah blah communism blah blah.**

**I don't care about what happened in the Cold War! Geez, it's like the world will end if they don't teach us about it. And in English, all I hear is blah Shakespeare blah, JUST KILL ME ALREADY!**

**Strange that I hate English, but I love to write fanfics. **

**It's funny how without school, I would be able to write more for my fanfics, but without school, I wouldn't be able to write fanfics. School is just so darn amazing and hateful.**

**THANK GOODNESS GRADUATION IS IN ONE WEEK, CAN'T WAIT! **

**For those who read this blurb, thank you for listening to my complaints. You are the best readers ever. **

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 12

**Tris POV**

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_"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."_

_-Albert Camus_

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A dizzy feeling rushes through me when I attempt to get up. Instead, I remain lying down. When I open my eyes, they refuse to work properly and I can only see black dots. Eventually my sight clears, and I feel myself staring at the stucco ceiling above me. I take in a sharp breath, and the realization sinks in.

Slowly, I begin to move, my limbs and then my head. I strain my eyes when they land on the bright light above me. This migraine is killing me, and I try to prop myself up.

Keyword being try.

Unable to control it, I fall again on my backside, and try to take in my surroundings.

I know this room all too well. The plain white walls, and the black furniture mixed in makes me question my sanity. This can't be possible.

Shock takes over, and I can't fathom the thought into reality. No, I'm just fooling myself, I'm still probably in my own bed, sleeping. This is all just a dream.

"You're awake."

At the speed of light, my head turns to where his voice is coming from. He's just sitting there, watching me. His pose suggests nothing but unease, his fingers fidgeting slightly. I glare back. Not wanting to let him be the one to talk first, I start.

"You know, most people would take a person, that just lost consciousness, to the hospital." I pause every few words, because talking for that long makes me breathless. My voice is a mix between a hoarser and higher-pitched than my usual.

Instead of responding with a usual full-of-attitude, he changes the subject. "Here. Eat this." He hands me a pack of what has to be the most sugar-filled cookies in the world, double-stuffed Oreos. I raise my eyebrow at him, "You have to eat something to raise your sugar level."

Why is he taking care of me. And why, especially, has he been doing all these things for me lately? I mean for God's sake, I'm lying on his bed, in his bedroom, in his house, eating his food.

"Why the hell am I here?"

"This is probably a better alternative than a trip to the hospital." He's right. I definitely do not want to take one step in there. I already have enough on my plate, and do not want to give my parents another reason to be disappointed in me.

But still, why does he care. "Why did you take me into your home?" Indeed, why did he. Tobias could've just let me sleep on the street. Sure I appreciate the fact that he's doing this, but I'd never admit that out loud.

"Would you rather be run over by a car in the middle of the night?" He says back.

"Answer my fucking question, you know what I'm asking. First you treat me like dirt, and now you're acting all caring and shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Tobias stays silent, looking away. But I just can't stop. "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can just come back into my life all nice and friendly after making my life miserable for all of high school? Where's your whorish girlfriend? How about you're douchebag friends? You think you can do this to me?" I yell not caring if our neighbors hear. I yell in pain, telling him how he made me feel like trash, how I felt like it was my fault, and how I wish I never knew him.

By the end of my piss-off, I'm panting as if I just ran a marathon. He gets up, and walks around before sitting down. I avert my eyes from his gaze, and try to get up.

I'm almost out the door when he speaks up, "I don't care if you're angry, you're not going anywhere." I turn around, my eyes burning in fire almost melting him.

But it doesn't work. He makes his way over, and places me back in his bed, and seats himself in his chair. My throat is sore from expressing my hurt and hatred for him, so I whisper, "I hope you burn in hell, you son of a bitch."

My body can't take anymore, and I fall under the temptation of sleep.

* * *

The next morning, my eyes land on his figure, snoring slightly, in what's the most uncomfortable position to be sleeping in. Good. I hope he suffers back pain.

Shit, we both are missing school. Oh well, it's just Friday. No biggy, just missing two tests. Right.

His bed smells just like him, and I want nothing more than to get up, and leave his house, never to look back. But I am too weak.

The cookies are still next to me, on the nightstand. I settle for eating one, after all, I am hungry.

I guess I never was truly anorexic, if I never did have the intention of losing weight. Just depressed.

One cookie turns into two, and ten minutes later, the whole pack is empty. Honestly, I feel much better since yesterday. My eyes flit to his rising chest, moving up and down. His fingers are still moving.

A question pops in my head. Where are his parents? They weren't here last night, or today. That's strange, considering his mom works from home. They never just disappear like that.

Though I'd like to say I couldn't care less, I feel like I am contradicting myself.

There's a question that's nagging me in the back of my head, and I have to admit it out loud. Ignoring it won't help me at all. It's now or never, and doing it now would give me some relief.

Do I really hate Tobias as much as I say I do?

Could I really hate this boy sleeping in a chair, who brought me into his house because I fell, even though we're both not supposed to care about each other?

For years, he's hurt me in ways unimaginable, but could I really forget about our old friendship? My feelings of whether to hate or not are floating around, ignited by events, but I don't want to go on like this. It's confusing me, and him. Although I act like I don't care, twelve years of friendship is hard to throw away. But they way he's acted towards me, I don't know what to do.

Do I really hate him?


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Alright this chapter was kind of bad, but every author needs to have filler chapters in their story. I don't want to be one of those authors who says they won't update unless they get a certain amount of reviews, but I never thought that I would've gotten 92 reviews in 12 chapters! The most I've ever gotten for any story! I'd like to thank you guys for all the support and positive reviews, (and negative ones), it makes me happy that you guys are so excited to see what happens next! **

**I present Chappie 13!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 13

**Tris POV**

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_"If you age with somebody, you go through so many roles - you're lovers, friends, enemies, colleagues, strangers; you're brother and sister. That's what intimacy is, if you're with your soulmate."_

_-Cate Blanchett_

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The answer to the question haunts me as the day passes. I am strong enough to go back to my house, but he won't let me leave. Like my usual days, I am as lonely as ever, and I miss my razor. The temptation of searching his bathroom for any spare razors is grabbing at me, and it takes everything I've got to hold myself down. So I try to converse the stucco ceiling above me, to keep me company. It's a good listener. Primarily, since it can't tell me to shut up.

Anyways, what would I have to go home to? Staying here is no different than being at my house, both unwelcoming and cold. My folks are probably weeping over Caleb that they haven't even noticed I'm not home. I skim through my teachers' eBoards to see what the latest homeworks, assignments, and tests dates are. Usually, we're loaded with homework to do over the weekend, but I only stuff to do for math and Spanish.

Surprisingly, Tobias still has an analog clock, that I check on from time to time, to see how many hours go by. My phone is nowhere to be found, and I'm worried that I dropped it outside the other night. If I lost it, then most likely I would have to use my own money I've been saving for years, to pay for a new one. All that money I collected, my escape money, being used to buy myself another iPhone. Things are getting so damn expensive these days.

He still hasn't made an appearance after he had brought me breakfast, scrambled eggs. I ate wholeheartedly, eyeing him suspiciously after rethinking my decision to accept the food without testing it for poisonous substances.

I guess I'll know tonight, whether I die or not. So many things to look forward to.

The smell of him is too overpowering, his Nautica Aqua Rush staining into his sheets and pillows. By the end of my journey around his bedroom, picking up random items and examining them, I plop down in his swivel chair, and spin around. Before I can even process what happens next, I am screaming, "WEEEE!" and he steps into the room.

His hair is dripping wet, and his skin gleams with water from his recent shower, and I immediately scold myself for managing to embarrass myself even more.

I eyeball him, noticing that he's covered up in clothes, long-sleeved and humongous jeans. It's not summer, but it certainly isn't the season to be wearing clothes like that.

Though the rest of him seems calm, his eyes speak anything but it, peering over everything, his blue pupils moving at an incredible speed. After making sure everything is in place, I stare in awe as I watch him walk away, with a sort of limp.

That's not normal.

Something pushes me to investigate, so I follow him onto his porch. The windy air of spring brushes past my cheeks, reminding me of Chicago's colder climate.

Once we are both seated in the wicker porch chairs, I let out a huff and cross my arms. The words rush out, all bunched in one sentence, "I really don't care, but why are you walking funny?"

"If you don't care, then why are you asking?" He responds, not cockily, but so quickly that I am caught off guard. It appears that he's trying to act oblivious to my observation. If I can see his limp, than he sure as hell has noted it.

"Alright, then maybe I do care enough to want to know why." As soon as the words exit my mouth, I wish I could take them all back. Did I just admit that I cared?

After five minutes pass, it's obvious that he's not going to give me an answer to my revealing question. The fact that I let him hear me admit that I care even a little, bugs me. We both look away, and I try to think about anything else.

It doesn't work.

"Where are your parents?"

"Where are yours?" He shoots back at me.

"Are you going to just restate everything I ask you?" This is getting quite annoying. He keeps turning every question back at me, not really giving me any information.

"Do you really think I'm going to answer any of those questions?"

"I think I have a right to know who my kidnapper is."

He responds slightly baffled, "You already know me."

"For your information, I know nothing about you. I don't know who you are, or what you want." He looks hurt after taking my thoughts into consideration, and knows that I am right. I have no clue about who Tobias is.

I only knew the old Tobias, not this one sitting before me. Not the boy who put me through hell for what should've been my careless years of my life, when friends were the only concern, not concocting a plan to escape this life. Not this boy, who left me when I needed him most.

No, I do not know this boy. And I don't know if I ever will.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: For some reason, I'm really angry today. Sorry for not updating quick, but a lot goes down in this chapter, but don't worry, it's not the end.**

**Sorry this is a bit rushed, but when you read this, you'll see why it has to be. I can't explain it without giving spoilers, but just...God this is hard. But just read the whole thing.**

**And 1.8K+ words, that's a lot for one chapter. Anyways, read on.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 14

**Tris POV**

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_"To really know someone is to have loved and hated him in turn"_

_-Marcel Jouhandeau_

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Currently, I am lying comfortably on the Eaton's plush red sofa, my hair and legs spread out, remote in one hand, phone in another. Funny story actually, it turns out that my phone was stashed in my bra. Though Tobias is capable of many things, I am one hundred percent sure he didn't put it there.

But I don't remember when or why I did.

Who knew Netflix had Attack On Titan? Only my parents and Caleb use our Netflix account, I am allowed to, but no one likes what I watch. So I watch TV on a tiny screen, on my phone.

"No, no no, NOO! I can't look!" I'm watching the scene where the titan is lowering Eren's mom into its mouth, and blood droplets fly across the screen. I can't make myself look away, because curiosity always wins. In most Japanese animes, there would be peach blossom leaves or something, but there's only blood in AOT. That's what I love about it.

If the Eaton's TV's high screen revolution isn't shocking, then the fact that Tobias is sitting on the couch farthest away from me, is. He doesn't say anything throughout the show, and he remains expressionless, or so I think when I sneak in a glance here or there. Lunch had passed, and with nothing to do, we decided to ignore each other.

He doesn't have a right to be hurt by what I said earlier, because he should've known this is what I felt when he ditched me freshmen year. I mean, what was he expecting? For me to welcome him, arms open.

Tobias has been very distant, and more than likely, this is probably his worst Friday ever. But what stumps me, is that he's choosing to have it like this. He could easily let me leave, and hang out with his crappy friends and girlfriend, but he's giving that all up to spend his Friday with a depressed, anorexic, girl who hates him.

The world must be coming to an end.

I groan inwardly when I tried sneaking a peak at him, and he catches me staring. We hold a gaze at each other, for about five minutes, waiting to see who will look away. He isn't a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice. Heat rushes into my cheeks. What will happen when this tension breaks?

But he simply turns his head away, leaving me to wonder what just happened. Actually, I have no clue what we're doing, so I ask him, "What are we doing?"

"We're watching, well, whatever that is."

"It's called Attack On Titan. And you know what I mean." He's playing stupid, acting oblivious to my sudden question.

"I don't know what you mean."

"For god's sake," he flashes a grin and I continue, "Why the hell am I here?"

"Do you want to leave?" That stumps me. I know we're supposed to be sworn enemies, but I really like his amenities. I mean, this couch is so comfy, and his TV is just awesome. And maybe, just maybe, I prefer staying here over going to my own house. I want to avoid my parents, and now that I am seeing pieces of the old Tobias, I don't know.

Maybe I don't hate him as much.

But that still doesn't answer my question. "This isn't about me. You had no problem kicking me out of your house a month ago, what's so different now?" I ask, remembering the party my parents forced me to attend. Although he didn't actually kick me out, it was implied that I wasn't supposed to be there. Especially with the name-calling, that was a nice touch.

He's stuck now, not really having an answer, or not wanting to share it. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes." Without hesitation, the word rushes out. I don't hold back my obvious interest, and wait patiently for his reasoning.

But he doesn't give one. "Look I don't know about you, but I'm not going to just sit here and pretend this is normal. If you're planning to make fun of me later with your friends and tell them about what happened last night-"

"No. I'm not going to do that." He cuts me off abruptly, and his response is so serious, I have to pinch myself to make sure this is real. Hell, I don't even know what's going on anymore, one second bitch-face McGee is here, and the next, I see the real Tobias.

Or, the real Tobias being the one I used to spend every second of my life with.

"How do I know that?" He can't make me believe something as feeble as that. He can't expect me to think that he's serious. Though, he looks pretty genuine.

Looks can be deceiving.

Instead of letting him give me a lie, I change the subject, "How come you've been missing school lately?" It's true. Not a day or two, but periods where he's gone for four to five days at a time.

He immediately stiffens at that, and his previously relaxed posture is lost. "I don't give a fuck, but if you keep missing school and our tutor sessions, it hurts you and helps me, because I get paid either way. But you don't want that right? You want to make me miserable, by sticking your motherfucking face everywhere I go, you son of a b-"

Out of nowhere, he stands up and interrupts my awesome insult, "I'M SORRY? Alright, I'm sorry. I feel awful for what I did to you, and I regret it all. I wish I could take it all back. I miss you, and you shouldn't have to had gone through all that!" And that's when we reach total silence.

My jaw drops, and I stare at his form, his fingers fidgeting like crazy, twisting into imaginary knots. "You're, what?"

"I'm sorry."

Breathing seems like the most impossible task right now, and I am fighting to do so. I run a hand through my hair, replaying the news in my head. He's sorry? That demon, is, sorry?

And then, I'm running, faster than before, faster than when I was trying to get away from his party a month ago. But this time, I'm not running away.

I'm running toward him.

Any hate I had in me, any pain he's inflicted on me emotionally, can never be taken back. All that bullying he and his friends put me through, I can never forget. Because of him, I had to go through the most difficult years of my life friendless, depressed, and alone. I had no one. My parents, my brother, my old friends, they all looked the other way.

And while I was sinking, turning to cutting for any hope that I was still alive, he was rising, having the time of his life. He gave up any friendship or closeness we had, and made me question my self worth.

Because of him, I'm in hell.

He thinks it can all go away with one lame ass apology? He thinks that by saying sorry, I'll just accept it?

Not seconds later, I reach him, my 5'2 stature nowhere near his 6' one. But it doesn't matter, I jump on him, and punch, kick, and claw at anywhere I can reach. I want to hurt him in any way imaginable, and though it will not give me any of my happiness back, this is the closest I can get to closure.

My need to damage him, isn't fulfilled as I scratch and bruise every surface of his skin. Before he can pry me off, I grit my teeth, and punch him straight in the jaw. "You think you can do this to me?" Kick. "Who do you think you are?"

I get up, and grab the nearest object available. A glass vase. I hurl it at him, the sound of the whoosh of wind is music to my ears. He ducks in time, but it shatters on impact with the wall above him, millions of pieces of glass falling everywhere. But I can't bring myself to stop.

Without thinking, my hands reach the most fragile things I can find, and throw it at full speed toward him. Picture frames, china plates, porcelain, ceramic, figurines, glass, each destroyed on contact with the wall. My rage causes my aim to be off, but I only see red everywhere. Unable to understand right from wrong, my emotions are the only thing keeping me energized.

"I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!" I scream at the top of my lungs, meaning every word. The tears pouring out of my eyes are blinding me, and everything is a smudge. I see blood, and the feeling of the glass cutting into my skin is relief to me. I'm alive.

I pound on his walls, most likely knocking over more objects. Something falls onto my head after hitting into the bookshelf, but I pick it up, and step on it, not clearly being able to see anything farther than a foot from me.

My knuckles are killing me, begging me to end my fury rampage, but I refuse to give up. I feel like I have to destroy everything in this house, hurt Tobias in every way imaginable.

But I can't.

Because I'm too weak. I'm too weak to do anything. Too weak for anyone. Too weak, to have people to count on. Too weak, to be happy.

And it's all his fault.

I can't stop the salty tears from dripping down my face, or the pain affecting me on the inside and out.

I hate him.

I hate him.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: This is the newly updated chapter! (The whole thing) Enjoy! **

**Oh yeah, and has anyone read my other fanfic, The Twists In The Paths We Choose, ? I feel like it deserves more lllooooovvvveeeeee! By the way, it's FOURTRIS!**

**Anyway don't feel obligated to read it, I just wanted to know if it was that bad.**

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**AN:This was probably the worst chapter I've ever written. Like, ever. I felt no emotion in writing this, as if I was trying to pretend to be an upset person, when clearly, I'm not. Actually, I just feel numb today. Nothing's worse, nothing's better. I guess, I call this shitty writing. **

**However this chapter is necessary. It seems a bit too rushed, to me. But I can't reprocate anger into my writing, when in fact, I'm happy today. So, I'm sorry. Oh yeah, forget what I said last chapter, this is the turning point in the story. (It might change, but for now, yes!)**

***VERY IMPORTANT***

**My suckish update here, is the reason why I am doing what I'm going to tell you if you keep reading. First of all, no matter how much I edit this, it feels incomplete. Second of all, it's too short, and the message I am trying to convey isn't going through as much as I'd like.**

**This is why, this is just a sample of the full chapter. The whole thing will be posted soon, sometime this week, though probably not tomorrow because I have to get ready for graduation.**

**Anyway, ReAd oN FeLlOw ReAdErS!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 15

**Tris POV**

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_"Man is subject to innumerable pains and sorrows by the very condition of humanity, and yet, as if nature had not sown evils enough in life, we are continually adding grief to grief and aggravating the common calamity by our cruel treatment of one another."_

_-Joseph Addison_

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I hate him.

I hate him.

That's all I can think of, my brain holding onto that last piece of information, the only thing I'll ever be completely certain about. As my body slams into the walls surrounding me, the rapid tears dripping down my cheeks making my vision very poor. With nothing to rely on but touch, I push past everything, until I make it out of this house, as far away from him as possible.

I hate him.

However, the feeling isn't strong enough, his presence still around me. I can still smell his cologne, and feel his ocean blue eyes staring holes through me. Too weak, so I drag my nails across the foreskin of my arm, enough to draw some blood, enough to emulate a feeling. A feeling that I am alive. That I'm not dead, not yet.

I begin to walk towards my house, though it's my area of residence, will never be a home to me. It will bring nothing but bad memories, and sadness. That I'm not enough for anyone. Not my parents. Not my brother. Not my friends.

Not Tobias.

Thinking better of it, I refrain from crossing the road until my tears stop falling, so that I won't end up flat against the surface of the road, like that roadkill I passed by the other day. I wonder what happens to all those animals who end up dead, stuck to the roadI silently march over to the tree stump we named Peggy, years ago. The memory brings up more tears, and I cry loudly, constantly muttering, "I hate him."

Why is my life so goddamn unfair? Why is everyday hard for me? Why does everyone hate me?

Why am I like this?

Why was all my happiness taken away, all my friends and family gone when I depended on them?

"It's not FAIR!" I punch the dead wood underneath me, and continue kicking and punching poor Peggy. No matter how much I abuse the tree stump, my anger only increases, because I realize this.

It doesn't matter how much I physically hurt Tobias. It will never penetrate deep enough to scar him the way he did me, emotionally. He will never have to experience the pain I did, over him, not just losing our friendship, but receiving pure hate from him and his cronies. I can ignore him all I want, it won't put him through what I had to go through.

And that's when something snaps in me. The realization hits me, never has it ever been so clear before. A new mantra replaces the old one, and a shudder passes through my body. Why did it take me this long to see it?

I've seen it millions of times before, an endless cycle of it. Just like with humans, with animals, and other life forms. I've seen it, and looked the other way, refusing to believe the truth. Refusing to accept the fact that the pretend-world I was living in, is now shattered beyond repair, now that I understand.

The world is a cruel place, where there's no such thing as karma. The concept that if you do a bad thing, a bad deed will happen to you, is nothing more than bull. There's only weak and strong in this world, you can only be one. The strong prey on the weak, because that's how the world works. It's been going on for millions of years, and cannot be changed. I was wrong for thinking otherwise, that I was an exception.

This whole time, I was the weak one, and was letting everyone else walk over me, like I was nothing. I was the cause to my own misery, I was too kind and empathetic. I was an easy target to others, and continuously made a fool of myself. It's mine, and mine only, fault why I'm treated like this at home, and at school.

I won't be weak anymore. I'm not going to take other people's crap anymore, I'm done.

I won't be a carpet, for people to step on anymore. I won't be a doormat, for people to rub their dirty feet on anymore. No, old, and weak Beatrice is gone.

Now there's a new Tris. Who is no longer a softie, who will be the invincible. My previous self, who pretended to know the world, to try and understand people's motives, I can't reach her. She is replaced by someone with more strength, who knows that people don't have reasons to be mean.

They just are. Because in this world, nothing would function if there weren't any predators to prey on the weak.

I refuse to be weak. Not anymore. Not ever again.

I am not weak.

I am strong.

* * *

Once the tears cease, I get up and put on an expressionless face. The walk to my house is a short one, the slight breeze rushing through my hair. I must look horrible, but at the moment, I couldn't care less.

I remain in my stoic posture once I enter my house, my parents jumping from the nearby sofa, my mom quipping, "Oh my God, Beatrice, where have you been?"

Instead of my usual looking away and biting the inside of my cheek, I face them head on in the most sarcastic tone I can muster, "Oh, so you noticed I was gone?"

Though my parents brush my comment aside, and rush over to my side, demanding to know where I've been. Before my mother can wrap her arms around me in a hug, I push her away slightly, making sure not to hate her. I don't want to be labeled an abuser.

"Where do you think you're going?", my father proclaims, but I keep walking to the staircase. "Beatrice, I am talking to you."

They don't have to know anything, I won't let them. "Why the fuck do you care? What's happened all of a sudden? You had no problem leaving dinner last night, and now you care about me?"

"Do not speak to me like that."

"Why not? What should I show you respect when you never had to me?" A few months ago I would not have dared to snap at my father. A few hours ago I might not have done it either. But something changed.

Yelling fills my background, as I ascend the stairs to my bedroom, but I block out the noise with my ears. Even in my bedroom when I slam the door, enough to cause the frames on the walls to shake, the angry voices of my parents are crystal clear.

"Who do they think they are?" My parents. The people who brought me into this world. The people who raised me, partially. The people who provided me with all the provisions and amenities necessary to live. The people who I will forever be in debt to.

"They're no one."

Something doesn't feel right, almost out of place. And as soon as I see my reflection in the mirror, I instantly know what it is. Me.

If I changed this much on the inside, the need to shed any trace any remnants of my old identity takes over. I grit my teeth as I push aside the closet door, revealing my wardrobe of colors of all kinds.

Fury takes over as I rip out any clothes of color, desperately wanting to rid of the old Tris, who would wear old, and baggy clothes. I toss out various colors; pink, blue, green, orange, yellow, red, purple, white. Gray.

Soon, the only clothes I allow that are hanging on my plastic hangers, are black without a trace of color, and clothes that are extremely form-fitting. Suddenly, clothes aren't enough. No.

I've always noticed how plain my face is. In my reflection, I see a narrow face, wide, round eyes, and a long, thin nose- I still look like a little girl, even though I am a sophomore in high school.

A smile creeps onto my face as I spy my sleek, black scissor sitting on my desk, in the same spot I used it last time for an art project. Carefully I walk towards it, as if I am balancing on a tightrope. For emphasis, I put out my arms, as a sign that I am free.

With the sharp tool in my hand, I stare at my reflection.

I part my hair down the middle and make sure that it is straight and flat. I close the scissors over the hair by my chin. I cut in as straight a line as I can, using my jaw as a guide. The tricky part is the back, which I can't see very well, so I do the best I can by touch instead of sight. Locks of blond hair surround me on the floor in a semicircle.

Even now, my dull blond hair reminds me of my prior self, and I just want to change it. I never liked my hair color anyways. My eyes could use some change too, my eyes are a gray-bluish shade.

Makeup and dye never occurred as important to me, so my attempt to find any as I rummage through my items in my bathroom is futile. But I do not want to stay like this any second longer than I have to. I grab my phone, purse, and keys.

Silently, I pray that my parents were too pissed, and that they retreated to their offices to work away their stress. My wish is granted when I peer out my door, a clear view to my empty living room. I guess I never heard them leave while I was in my room, their ceasing argument went unnoticed.

Once I realize I don't have a way for transportation, I almost head back to my room, only to thank goodness that I live in Chicago.

Buses.

The bus stop is eerily quiet, and I begin to whistle in hopes to lighten the silence. No luck. Two stray dogs sleep in a little division between the two opposite direction lanes, or what I like to call them, "islands". I try not to catch any attention, as I stop my whistling, not wanting to become dog food. Or possibly catch rabies.

A moving blue dot quickly makes its way towards me, and I board the banged-up bus. I just now see the vast distance from my house to the bus stop, and see how lucky I was to make it to the 2:00 ride.

Things are going my way for once.

I choose a window seat, and plug in my earphones, since it will be at least twenty minutes before I will get off the bust to the mall. You know that feeling you get when you want to listen to music, but none of the songs are the one you want to listen to. Instead, I check my instagram page. I chuckle silently at the latest posts of scienceoftumblr.

Convenient how twenty minutes pass quickly, and I reach the steps of the bus, signaling the driver to a stop. I jump off the steps, since my legs are too short to reach them to climb down them individually.

As I make my way inside, ignoring the annoying and chirpy-voiced perfume saleswoman, the fumes of the pretzels get to me. Later. I'm so hungry.

In my wallet, is a hundred dollar bill, so I don't have to worry about not having enough.

I've shopped at Hot Topic only once before, and that was to buy a TFIOS shirt. Otherwise, now that I enter, the atmosphere of the store and all it's contents speak me. I guess I'm goth now.

Piles of shirts lay on my arm, now filled with shirts from my favorite animes, and a few others that are to my appeal. Most are from the clearance section, but only one is twenty three dollars. But I just couldn't resist the Colossal Titan shirt.

Now for the makeup. They're all on sale, as I pick up various eyeliners, mascaras, lip products, and eye shadows. I'm not an expert on beauty products, so I don't bother with concealer, or whatever the hell bronzer is. Not that there would be any of that sort in a store like this.

Once my arms are littered with shirts, ripped jeans and leather skirts and pattern-tights, makeup, I pick out two containers of Special Effects dye. One, electric blue, and the other, jet black. Something tells me that I will need the black.

I check out, only regretting missing the special Levi messenger backpacks, but it's too late now. They taunt me from the window, "I'll get you next time."

One cinnamon-flavored pretzel later, I sit at one of the benches near the glass railing overlooking the first floor. I don't dare to go to any other shops that anyone from school shops at, in hopes to avoid running into anyone. It's fairly easy to lug my large Hot Topic bag, wondering for awhile before heading home. I have a lot to do.

Yesterday, I would've waited patiently for the kids to board the bus ahead of me, but I'm not like that anymore. I push everyone out of the way, and earn a few dirty looks. I smirk back at them.

Once seated, the engine roars to life, and we're off. I let the tears fall, one last time as I say goodbye to my old identity.

I clamp my hand over my mouth to contain a sob. Five seconds of weakness. One, two, three. Four.

Five.

No more. No more crying. No more emotions.

I am not weak anymore. I am strong.

* * *

My house is dead silent, I notice, sitting on my bed. I forcefully rip out the price tags from my new clothes as I place them in the closet, but not enough to rip apart the feeble fabric. Cheap quality at a high price.

The one thing that didn't cross my mind were shoes, which are my only non-black piece of my outfit. Oh well.

The coldness of the tiles seeps into my feet as I trod into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me, and opening a window. The dye will smell. I comb my boring blond hair, hoping for a magically good-looking hairdo. No such luck.

"Why am I so ugly?" And that's not true. Even though I am nowhere near gorgeous, I am definitely not ugly. I scrape off the sticker on the box, and the bottles roll out. I catch them before they fall.

The directions are so tiny, barely visible on the sheet in my hand. Basically, I have to pour the goop into my hair, and make sure each fossil of hair is covered. Now for the style.

Honestly, I don't want to have completely blue or black hair, so I settle on making the top portion black, and two inches from the tip blue.

The smell is so putrid, I almost step into my shower to wash it all off. I crack the window open a bit more, the fresh air rushing into my nose. I remain like that, music playing in the background.

Is this really the right thing? Who am I trying to prove to, by shaking my physical appearance. My parents will be beyond raged, I know it. But that doesn't matter at the moment. All I can think of, is how I will be stared at.

Maybe it won't be that bad. But the question keeps nagging me, will this do any good? What purpose is coloring my hair serving?

As I feel the water rinse out all the foul-smelling chemicals, I rub, conditioning it with the provided special effects conditioner, and step out in my towel. The glass is still foggy, and I dry, slipping into baggy sweatpants and an old black tank top, that will serve as pjs.

I stack my newest additions to my bare makeup collection, to pass the boredom. I want so badly to see my reflection, but I want to allow myself some time to calm down, so I can analyze my new look.

And I do.

There are no words to describe it. I feel, so much more different. More, new Tris-like. And when I apply makeup later, it will be a major improvement. And there's one thing I'm positive about.

I love it. I love my now black and blue hair. I love how I look in it. I love how I look nothing like my previous self. And I love imagining the reactions from everyone else. My parents won't approve, no doubt. And, I'm almost certain, that kids at school will make fun of me. It isn't funny. A laugh rises in my throat anyway, and I let it out because it's harder to keep it in. Sometimes crying or laughing are the only options left, and laughing feels better right now.

Unable to control my body, I double over, laughing crazily, holding onto the counter to stop myself from falling due to the dizziness and the room spinning around me. Carefully, I make my way out of the bathroom, and realize. I had anorexia. It should be physically impossible for me to have done everything I did today, walking farther than I could imagine.

Extra physical activity and not eating are a bad combo, as I have to hold onto the surrounding walls, to prevent my head from coming contact with hard material. The hysteria continues, unwelcomed laughs leaving my throat.

And then the delicious smell of Chinese food reminds me, that I was smart enough to buy something to eat at the food court. I thank my beautiful brain.

Seeing that I would be the one to have to bleach my carpets if I were to drop any food, I bring all the Styrofoam containers and soda cans to the tiled-bathroom. I get comfortable on the floor, or as much as possible. The cold doesn't faze me, and neither does the smell of humidity from my recent shower.

"A toast, to us!" I pick up my dented seven-up can, and bring it up to my reflection, almost hearing the 'clink' of a real toast. I smile, and happily dig into the cheap mall food.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: How many of you have read the continuation of chapter 15?! To understand this installment, you have to read the previous update, so unless you have, NO PEAKING! I've been having a hard time writing since chapter 13, because for some reason, I'm always happy (must be because of the end of school and my flight to Europe tomorrow!) and I can't channel my emotions into writing dark things, primarily this story. Don't worry, I will write as much as I can, but expect me to take a bit longer updating, 'cuz I have to revise and stuff. **

***In this chapter, you'll see this - [][][][][], which is my version of a page break that's for a longer time skip than usual, or a symbol I use to juggle between past, present, and future tenses, which will be mashed up in that section of this chappie! Try not to get confused.**

**Once again, sorry for the lack of updates, so I made this chapter extra long to say I'm sorry! BYE!**

**Wow this is 2K words!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 16

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order."_

_-David Gerrold_

* * *

My health is deteriorating, now that I think about it. Sure, on Saturday I ate Chinese, but I had nothing on Sunday. My stomach growls in pain, but I don't want to give in and see my parents. I didn't really think this through, when yelling at them like that.

Not that I regret it, it was necessary.

Desperate to get rid of the stench in my mouth, and head to the bathroom. I sneak in a peak at my reflection, my hair a major improvement. I smile at the sight.

After brushing my teeth, I almost hit my head; tripping over my stack of laundry, with my pretty pink bra on top. I'm not a very clean person. The new clothing stares at me from my closet, and I settle on a sleeveless leather vest, a black camisole, and black ripped jeggings. My only black shoes, are my boots which look a little too warm for this weather. My sneakers will have to do.

Never having been an expert on this area, I try my best with makeup, passing by with my little knowledge of it, and my limited products. In the end, I pat myself on the back, my eyes standing out. At first I thought I put too much eyeliner, but it makes my eyes pop out. A little silver eye shadow later, I apply some red liquid, which I'm guessing is lipstick. I mentally slap a hand on my forehead, I have to do some research. A sixteen year old girl who can't tell makeup products apart, which was thought to be impossible.

Honestly, I look much older now, and I get an idea. Thank god I bought some brownish powder looking thing, that god knows could be eye shadow or things for cheeks. I brush on a bit on the tip of my knows, and contour it, giving the appearance that my nose is smaller. I succeed.

One last glance at the mirror, and I feel proud of my new physical appearance, and fill with giddy imagining the reactions I'll get at school, and from my parents today. For sure, they'll hate it, making me love it even more. I'll do whatever I can to push them over the edge, dying and makeovers included. Anything to annoy them senseless.

I head downstairs for the first time since the weekend. Averting my eyes, trying to look at everything but my parents. Though, by the time I reach the dining room, I am forced to look at them, in surprise. On the table, lays a full-course meal, and my two parents sitting at the chairs opposite mine. This never happens. Usually, my parents never make me breakfast. Especially one this big.

But before I can dig in, my father angrily demands, "Beatrice, what did you do to your hair?"

I smile sarcastically at him, "You like it? I did it especially for you dad, you too mom. I knew how much you were going to love it." I keep my smirk on my face, good posture in my chair. I will not allow my parents to make me nervous.

Before I can receive the expected reaction and lecture, my mother cuts him off, "Beatrice, we have some bad news." Obviously, if they cooked a complete meal for me, this has to be serious. I immediately stiffen, expecting the worse. Us moving. Caleb's jail time becoming more severe. However I was not expecting when my mom continued, "Evelyn and Tobias's brother passed away yesterday. She went into early labor, and they didn't make it."

And I feel my insides tearing me apart. Not for the reason you'd think. Do I care about how Tobias is dealing with the situation, no, I don't give a shit. For all I care, Tobias can screw himself. What bothers me is the opposite, the fact that I might be happy. This must be hurting Tobias, killing him on the inside, which was something I was wishing for days ago, wanting for him to feel the same pain I did all these years.

And now, it has happened. That bad karma I was desperately wishing for, something to turn his life upside-down, an opportunity to ruin him from the inside. The fact that I have to disguise my smile around my parents, who are tearing up because their life-long good friend has died, it proves how sadistic I am. I too, am affected by this news. But the way I am handling it, does that make me a bad person? To be joyous because of the revelation of the death of my sworn enemies' mother?

What kind of a person gets happy when someone they know dies, because it will hurt someone they don't like?

They cry silently, my dad wrapping his arms around my mom, while she tears into his chest. I eat my breakfast, my mind at war on what is right and wrong. Do I pretend to be upset, and fake a sob? Or do I play it truthfully, which is not really caring. This decision- reflects deeply on what kind of person I am.

I remain emotionless for the rest of the day.

I am strong.

* * *

Similar to how I predicted it, teachers stare, but say nothing. The kids- they actually show a bit respect. If you count watching for a minute, and resuming their ongoing conversation respectful. My suspected reason for their behavior, is that they probably see that I am a new person, and not the kind you want to mess with.

I think I got my point across when I lashed out at a boy who bumped into me, causing the binders in my arms to fall to the ground, papers flying everywhere. I am almost certain he kept running all the way to Canada.

The most shocking reaction is from my mom- she didn't say anything against it. My father acts wary around me, and looks at me with disappointment in his eyes. My mom acts like it's the most normal thing in the world, treating me like she has been doing before I drastically changed my hair and makeup.

I don't know if that's better or worse.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Tobias isn't to be seen for the rest of the day, or the rest of the week. My brain simply refused to let go- the possibility of his whereabouts. Seeing that he wasn't in school from Monday to Friday, Mrs. Reyes informed me that I wouldn't have to stay after school for the tutoring sessions this week.

All I know that is whatever is keeping him away, can't be good. By the look on Mrs. Reyes face when she delievers the news, "Tobias is excused from school for the remainder of this week", tells me that I at least had something to do with it. The lack of guilt I am feeling makes me question whether I am being too harsh or not.

It's when I really start to wonder if he's okay, when my parents let Mr. Eaton over, asking how he's holding up with the death of his wife- he doesn't look very genuine. My mother asks, "How is Tobias?" I can't help but eavesdrop on this particular conversation, my ear planted against the wall opposite the couch seating the guest.

"Tobias can be very clumsy, and on Saturday, I found him- he fell down the stairs." This especially bothers me, because I was at his house on Saturday. His parents weren't home that day. What could be going on.

The next day, when I was forced into attendance for the funeral of my neighbor. I decided that I wasn't going to pretend to be upset, no. My harbored suspicions from the other day dropped as I wondered over what to wear.

At first, I was looking forward to this, standing in a black dress that hit just above my knees and hugged my waistline, and wearing extra makeup. Though I would admit that it was too showy for a funeral, no one noticed or found it in themselves to care. I wanted to go above and beyond to hurt the boy who shook my life, wanted to make him even more upset, that my hope for hurting him became a reality. I still avoided conceding into admitting that I was the direct cause for the karma, so I found any other way to think it. That he deserved it. That it was Tobias's fault for his mother's passing. I am such a liar.

However that is not the case when my parents park their car right behind the red fire hydrant, on the side of the road, in between a black Lexus and a silver Camry. My father and mother make their way to Marcus, offering condolences, and the occasional share of tears.

Not wanting to head in that direction, I mull over how uncomfortable these shoes are, to no one in particular, wanting Tobias to see me, but me pretending not to see him. My plan completely fails when I observe him sitting in a chair- arm in a bare cast.

I venture over to the crippled boy- disregarding my previous intent at bating him in anger. I strain my eyes to see him more clearly, the sun shining in that direction making it impossible to picture him out. Though I am certain, it is he- the way he is sitting, no doubt about it.

When I close in, I shout out a simple, "Hey." Not wanting to entertain the idea that I am the reason for his broken arm, due to my version of Isaac's broken trophies night. It didn't occur to me that after I was gone, all that glass surrounding him- that he could have been hurt, never crossed my mind. But then again- there could be some truth to Marcus's story about falling down the stairs. It reassured me that I didn't do it.

Wait, didn't I want to cause him pain? I immediately scold myself for underestimating the power of my aim, and punching and kicking. I did do this to him. I am certain.

He sniffles, and lifts his face from his arms, and I gasp. Calling him 'bruised' would be an understatement. His face is swollen and purple. He has a split lip and a cut running through his eyebrow. Any satisfaction I was wearing on my face drops at the sight of him.

What the hell happened?


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: This is the full chapter! Sorry it took so long, I hope the wait was worth it. If not, you can rant about how unfair it was of me to make you wait for this crappy update, in the reviews! Enjoy!**

**I present the complete Chappie 17!**

**rEaD oN mY fElLoW rEaDeRs!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 17

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"Child abuse casts a shadow the length of a lifetime."_

_-Herbert Ward_

* * *

_What the hell happened to him?_

Though I am capable of many things, his body is a patchwork of cuts and bruises. Disturbingly- no one has even noticed the flaw through Marcus' excuse of "falling down the stairs".

It's painfully obvious- there's something fishy about this. First of all, his parents weren't home on Saturday, not once at all during the weekend. Second, Tobias has never done anything clumsy anywhere but in his house, which is abnormal, considering Marcus called Tobias a clumsy person.

Third, I am almost certain that my atttacks on him did not bruise him the way he is now. Perhaps that cut extending from his forehead to his eyebrow could have resulted from being hit with a broken piece of glass from the objects I threw at him- but the bruises, impossible.

It would take someone much stronger to hurt him like that.

Another contradicting fact- Marcus said it so casually over the weekend, as if your son falling down the stairs, hurting himself enough to break his arm, as if it was nothing. Of course, my parents are too oblivious to this, seeing how they have endless respect for anyone other than me.

I've fell down staircases many times, and the end result looks nothing like what Tobias has on.

My conclusion, has nothing settling about it- maybe the cuts are my fault, because I did throw glass at him. And, I did punch and kick him several times. But my tiny fists pounding on him for hours could never have done damage like this.

I have nothing else to say, but anything to make me feel better. Even though I was wishing for pain for him, now that I see it, the death of his mother, and physical bruises and cuts, I feel awful.

Almost enough to vomit. But I keep it down. Success.

How could I even be wanting that on someone, their mother to die? No one deserves that, not even Tobias. The pressure and guilt are so immense, I find myself saying something to alleviate the feeling, "I am certain I didn't do that." Please say no, please say no. One glance at him, and I see that I won't be that lucky.

"No. Not directly." Directly? But if he's saying that I was not the direct cause, I at least had something to do with it. This makes me feel worse.

"You didn't really fall down the stairs." I say it more like a statement than a question. At this point, it's very obvious that the stairs have no correlation to the physical damage on his body.

Instead of answering, he puffs out a breath, and I just noticed he's been doing that since I came here. "It's hard for you to breathe?"

This whole situation is causing confusion in me, my current feelings fluctuating at all the different events going on. My main concern, is, if I have any guilt in me, or not. Not wanting to deal with it, I push down my bubbling anger, and guilt.

We both sit next to each other, and the service went on.

* * *

The ceremony in all is long and boring, Marcus crying tears that I do not know if they are genuine or not. Not that I care.

Evelyn wasn't that close to me. Well, when you put it in that perspective, no one is close to me. Tobias doesn't move a muscle, doesn't cry- just puts on a poker face, and sits as still as a statue.

People come to speak for Evelyn, and how she was a wonderful person- my parents included. I feel the urge to puke when they go on, gushing about her amazing qualities, and how she affected everyone. Yeah, right.

Close to the end, as people start to leave, I catch sight of something that I defentely wasn't supposed to see. Marcus sneers at Tobias, causing him to shiver just the slightest. Originally, I thought it was just my imagination, but this confirms my theory even more.

* * *

I corner my mom in my house when we go back home, my dad retreating to his office to work away his sorrows. I would never confront my dad about it, but am more likely to with my mom.

Someone has to know.

"Mom, do you really believe that a staircase did that to Tobias?" She can't be that ignorant. But if she is, I don't want to hear it, so I continue, "You are well aware that every time I fell down the stairs, I never ended up anywhere close to what he looks like now. And, Tobias was alone this weekend, his parents weren't home at all, and I was there.

My mother says nothing, and I wait, for something- anything. I don't know what to do if she agrees with Marcus.

"These are hard times for the Eatons- let's not get involved in any of their private affairs." She walks away, and I just stare with my jaw dropped to the floor. I refuse to believe that anyone is capable of siding against the victim. She thinks I am making this up? She was right there, she saw how badly hurt Tobias was, and she's choosing to look the other way!

Unlike the cliche thing to do, wondering about how parents could even do such a thing to their children, I realize that's stupid. Although I am not a victim of physical abuse like Tobias, I am mentally and emotionally tormented by my family and my surroundings. Abuse is abuse, all the same.

But, who am I to judge?

What have I been doing this whole time? Fighting over whether I think Tobias deserves it or not. I am trying to 'okay' the concept of child abuse, this whole times, I was condoning this. I knew this, but instead of doing something about it, I imagine it to be deserved.

I've been suspicious for awhile, but this proves it.

Tobias is being abused.

And prying all the honesty gathered in me, I settle on a startling verdict.

The guilt isn't eating its way in me, as I predicted it would've. I can find no consolidation, nothing that will make the situation better.

I wanted him to experience pain.

He is now.

Does that make me a bad person?

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**Part II**

* * *

It didn't start in the middle of nowhere, the process was gradual. Little things- he would be absent from school for days on end, exploded at the slightest things. Anxiety and anger issues, lack of focus, all the telltale signs of something going wrong in his life. I knew something was up, and years ago, Tobias became a different person. That year, the summer of eighth grade, must've been Tobias' breaking point.

Instead of going in deeper and finding the cause for the sudden change of heart, I put up walls and hid behind them. For two years, I made myself believe that Tobias only wanted popularity, when he turned on me. That I couldn't do anything to ease his anger. All those times he lashed out at me, told me things that I should've known were untrue, I am so embarrassed about. We could be in a different situation if I confronted him- asked him what's wrong. Instead of acting like a real the best friend, I watched him leave me to forget his past. I let him walk out of our friendship.

A friend is someone who has to be there for you, when you need them. A best friend is supposed to have your back, through thick and thin, and be there for you even when you don't need them.

I wasn't any of those when I didn't question why he changed within a snap, declaring me as someone he wished he never knew. I look back at all the horrible things I did, and how things could have been better for us if I didn't let him go so easily.

And now he doesn't have anyone to talk to. And neither do I.

Is he sitting alone in his house right now, grieving, over the losses? Is Marcus blaming him for the losses- by showing hatred towards him, kicking and beating him?

The next observation I make after remembering the past two years makes me sick- how could I have missed it? Similar to everyone else, I ignored the bruises that would appear on his face, or the limp he had, or how he would wince at the slightest movement. How did he hide that in sports? I was so stupid for thinking that he was just getting into fights- causing the severe bluing present on his body.

Maybe, I had noticed the estranged living situation he's been through, and chose to avoid facing the facts that it didn't start simultaneously two years ago.

And now, as I lay on my bed, limbs stretched out- I look for the answers to the questions that have been puzzling me.

If I am not feeling the guilt that the normal person would be, am I a bad person? Do I even have a conscious? Tobias probably lives a scared and shitty life, not knowing if he's safe at home- Marcus using him as his own personal punching bag. And now that his mother died, he truly is alone, no hope for him.

But if the abuse was happening when Evelyn was alive- did she know about it?

All the possibilities rush through my mind, my suspicions becoming less clear. Was his mom involved in the abuse, both his parents laughing mercilessly at the sight of their son lying in a pool of blood?

Or maybe, Evelyn had to share the secret of the abuse not doing anything about it. Just watching it happen.

Or the worst case scenario- Marcus hurt her too. Both Tobias and Evelyn, and the baby growing inside of her. And that would mean, that maybe, the miscarriage wasn't a work of mother nature. But why would anyone hurt an unborn child?

I have to wipe away at the tears that fall from my eyes, on instinct. Perhaps I do ache for the boy that I so hated a few days ago, and his noninvolved mother, and their baby, who they never got a chance to hold. They were expecting a beautiful creation, a new edition to the Eaton family, a baby brother to look up to Tobias, or maybe a girl to fantasize over cosmetics and fashion and boys.

And instead of getting a chance to hold another child in their hands, to raise another son or daughter, there was nothing.

I can't imagine what it's like to lose your own child. It must be the most painful kind of hurt, something irreversible, an ache that will never subside, a constant reminder of what could've been.

And I cry.

Cry for the unborn infant, that never had a chance. Who never had a chance to live, to grow up a happy child.

For the boy, who in reality, I betrayed- by not being a true friend- by letting my hurt emotions obscure the suffering he was going through, whose mother just passed, Tobias- who had to grow up too fast.

And I cry for the awareness, that this is my fault.

_"I am certain I didn't do that."_

_"No. not directly."_

I've hurt people. I am hurting people.

I never want to hurt people again.

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**Follow me on Instagram** awesomest_22


	18. Chapter 18

**reAN (as in recent AN): Here's the complete chapter. I have some more bad news- I won't be able to access my laptop, (where all this is created) for about two weeks, so this is probably the last update for that much time. I'm sincerely sorry with all this bad news I've been dumping on you guys lately. But,**

**ENJOY ALL OF CHAPTER 18!**

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**AN: I know I'm killing you guys with these incomplete chapters, parts and stuff. Sorry but this is what you all get. I promise I won't ditch this story, but you're going to have to wait for updates.**

**I have some bad news that I think that I should share with you guys. At first, like months ago, it seemed to be a good idea to have multiple stories incomplete, but now, it's a kill-joy. Seriously, I want to give you an ending to all those stories I left unfinished, divergent ones or not. **

**But I just can't for now, so this is why I will be doing this. Prepare yourselves. One, two, three...**

**I'm cancelling my other fanfictions for now, which means they may or may not ever be finished. I'm so sorry, but the poll, the number of reviews I got, and PMs, revealed that this story is by far the most popular, so I want to finish it, not having to rush it at all, and write the best I can. It's a pet-peeve of mine when I see people's works that haven't been updated in months, years even, and they're not completed. And I know, that I am one of those authors. But you must understand that I can't just magically finish them all now, so they are cancelled until I have finished this story completely.**

**I am sorry.**

**On the bright side, I posted two half-chapters back to back, but my hommies back in the USA can't see this now cuz' its like really early morning there. I actually don't know because my laptop always has the wrong time. **

**Anyway, as always, enjoy!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 18

**Tris POV**

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_"The candle burns not for us, but for all those whom we failed to rescue from prison, who were shot on the way to prison, who were tortured, who were kidnapped, who 'disappeared'. That's what the candle is for."_

_-Peter Benenson_

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Over the next few weeks, I wonder how I can stop hurting people.

At first it starts out with smiling at strangers, always using manners, letting others take my seat on the bus. Small and quaint ideas, and small amount of kindness I can show to others. In school, I try to bite back my sarcasm, and let teachers approach me. The obvious physical change probably let them know that everything isn't okay.

Nothing's okay.

But all that isn't enough. This new façade is sickening, because it shows how much I owe to others for all the horridness I put them through. I've been so cruel to others, taking my hurt out on them.

I guess that explains why I am watching Marcus' car pull out of his driveway, riding to wherever. Lately I've addressed my parents as people I should show kindness to, not just people who share living space with me, even though they're not always in the right. I just want to get rid of this feeling of guilt I wear everywhere I go.

Once I am absolutely sure Tobias' demonic father is gone, I rush out of my house, but not before saying goodbye to my mother in the kitchen. I've learned that since I've been nicer to my parents, they've been returning the gesture, unquestioned. Most likely because of all that's happened lately, my brother's imprisonment, and the death of their closest friend, my parents are struggling to grasp onto any hope they can, even if it is temporary. Me acting nice won't reverse the effects, and soon it won't be enough. But it's all I can promise at the moment, it a little happiness finds its way inside me every time I am able to carry a conversation with them.

I know now that my parents are nowhere near accepting the type of person I am, but this is much better than months ago.

If changing my attitude had won their hearts over for now, it stumps me when I wonder why I started acting mean and rebellious two years ago. There was no reason.

My guilt has been sky-rocketing these days. Once outside, I take in a deep breath. The warm Chicago air hits me, reminding me that summer is approaching at a scary rate, and there's still so much I need to do. I try not to think of how this summer will mark the two years since I've been best-friendless. While my lawn is crab-grass free, and freshly mowed, their house adjacent to ours, has been declining in curb-appeal.

The Eaton residence looks so down and depressing from the outside, so many mixed emotions hanging in the air. Obviously the wood is rotting based on the hollow sound of the door as I knock timidly on the once beautifully crafted wooden door. Not what I was expecting, the door creaks open, and I jump back- expecting an ax-murderer or Boogeyman. I debate going back to my house, not wanting to be eaten, but my curiosity wins.

I wander into the fairly large house, noting how there are cobwebs all over the ceilings. Obviously the home hasn't been taken care of. It's amazing how much the house has changed in two months time. The floors are significantly cleaner though.

I was in this house just weeks ago, and it seemed so different. It didn't feel like a home even before, but now, I feel trapped. This is where the dead should be. Not the living. How can any human being bare to live within these walls of coldness and depression? It must be a hell.

But I can't really complain, my dark appearance blending in with the dark feelings associated with this house.

Not wanting to get caught wandering around and invading their privacy, I loudly call out, "Tobias, are you here? I need to talk to you." One minute passes by, and I add on, "Please." Doubt fills me every second I wait for an answer, thinking of all the terrible things that could've happened to him. Maybe Marcus beat him to death, and hid his son's dead body in his car, and is driving to a swamp.

No, think realistically Beatrice, someone can't just disappear like that, unexplained. Marcus is smart, he wouldn't do that.

However the fact that Tobias isn't answering my calls causes me to be more frantic, searching every room, behind every corner, trying to find any reassurance.

"Tobias, please answer me. I'll leave if you don't want to talk but just let me know that you're okay." Desperation reeks into my pleas. The unimaginable thought of him dead haunts me, and a million thoughts are racing through my mind. The only idea I can cling onto is my desperation- hoping that he's okay.

He must be okay.

He has to be okay.

One trip upstairs later, I am panting from running all over the house looking for him. Looking in his bedroom would be the most obvious reasons, but I want to avoid entering that same room I spent a weekend in, months ago.

However, I don't need to even step in there, because I see a dark red liquid sopping at the bathroom tiles, my eyes trailing to the source. I rush over to the farthest corner, and empty my stomach's contents by retching into their toilet, my hands grabbing the seat.

Tobias' body is slumped in the corner, visible bruises popping up everywhere, and a deep cut over his left eyebrow, blood pouring down his face. His limbs seem to be intact, but his eyes are screwed shut, out cold.

His hair sticks to him, matted with blood and sweat. Despite the wound on his forehead, his face remains, for the most part, unharmed. Marcus must not have wanted it to be noticeable. His strategy makes me sick, and now.

He smells- a mixture of blood, vomit, and sweat. Judging by the looks of it, he's been there for hours, the dry blood coating his shoulders signifying that this was not recent.

I sit in front of him, holding onto his bloody and calloused hand, hoping for any signs of consciousness- but there's nothing. The only calming sight is the one of his chest rising and sinking, breathing.

I push back his hair, and examine the wound, wondering what could've caused it. There are no jagged lines, and a fist can't cause that kind of damage, so it must have been a shard of glass. I look around, and find fairly large and sharp pieces, surrounding us. The light blue glass slices at my finger on touch- kind of triggering. I push down the necessity to drag my digits across, and note how easily it must've penetrated his skin.

Being the petite girl I am, the task of lifting him up would be impossible, and suddenly, I wish I thought this through. What if Marcus barges in through the door, and finds us? Would he hit me too?

Ignoring the possibilities of ending up dead, I realize that if he doesn't get cleaned up, an infection could settle somewhere. My first thought is to call 911, but then Social Services would step in, and I highly doubt Tobias would want that.

After all, he wouldn't have kept this a secret if he wanted to be taken away by the state.

Just like he did months ago, I decide to use my lacking knowledge in the field of nursing, and try to fix him.

I guess that excludes throwing water in his face, probably not a good idea. Instead, I dampen a towel, and rub it around his face, enough to rid all the gunk covering him. It is much easier to look at his face, now that the blood is off.

Five minutes later, I decide to warm water in the tub for him to take a bath, but I literally face-palm when I remember two things. First, I cannot pick him up, and second, I turn as red as a tomato at the thought of having to undress him. I've always been wary of affection, but I didn't know how deep that fear went.

It makes me feel horrible because I remember learning that if you put your mind to it, you can help anyone. There isn't a reason not to, just human excuses, pathetic reasons.

With much effort, I drag him by the arms across the black and white tiled floors- dragging him by his legs wouldn't do any good for his already battered head. He now lays against the tub, and I get an idea. Using all my arm strength, I roll up my sleeves and jeggings- jumping into the tub, and flip him over, so it appears that he is lying on the ground, with his legs in the air- leaning against the tub. I'm pretty sure some of my bones popped in the process of me pulling him into the tub filled with warm water to the brim.

Careful not to let him drown, I pull one last time, and the situation we're in is so ridiculous, I laugh. Feeling warmth in my cheeks, I push my hair out of my face. By violently pulling him in, I fell in the water, and now am completely soaked up to my chest. However, the way I pulled him in- his head is submerged under the water, with his arms and legs sticking out. If it weren't for the water, his weight would be crushing me.

I quickly lift his head out of the water, and position him so he would appear as if he is sitting in water. Never in a million years, would I have thought I would be bathing a teenage boy. Let alone Tobias Eaton.

The desire to laugh is so strong, out of embarrassment, out of humiliation. But at the last moment, I remember to get out of the water before his blood dissolves in it. Explaining to my parents why I am wet is one thing. Explaining why I am covered in blood is another.

I notice something I hadn't earlier, and I stare at it, as if it would disappear into thin air if I removed my gaze. His sweatshirt has slashes in it on his backside, revealing same sized clots. A knife couldn't do that.

This time, I really can't stop myself from laughing when I remove his sweatshirt, and eventually his shirt, to get a better look at his back. This must be the most embarrassing thing I've ever done.

His back is littered with cuts and scars, tiny white ridges. Without a second thought, I run my fingers over it, to see what it feels like. And in some places, the damage is so recent, blood seeps out, some places larger than other. What did this? Not a knife, not a bare hand.

And I get a grip of myself. It's not my business. It's not any of my business what made those marks on him.

But if it isn't my business, why did I have the urge to do all this for him when I found him out cold in here? Why do I care? All this shit is so confusing, and I find myself wishing that things made more sense in my life. Whenever I think I understand something, everything goes topsy-turvey. There isn't anything constant in my life, everything is so unexpected. For once could things go right?

Getting the blood-covered towel from earlier- I use it, rubbing in gentle circles around his back, the dark blood washing out, turning the once clear bathing water a light red.

My embarrassment is at a whole new level- I am a shade of crimson all over- the sight of me bathing a half-naked boy. How the hell did I get myself into this?

But for now, the worst thing that could happen, is that he wakes up in the middle of all this, and I would have to explain why he in the world he is shirtless, with me washing him.

I mean, I was ignoring him for two months, and just show up, undress him without his consent, and am washing him.

Now that I reanalyze that, I realize how weird and mostly embarrassing this is. I pray to God that he will stay out cold.

Unlike my simple set of shampoo and conditioner, he has so many, brands unknown. I settle on the Head and Shoulder shampoo, and decide to have a little fun- squirting him in the face with it. The water makes it surprisingly easy for me to move him, so push him in the water and out, over and over again until the shampoo is mixed in, the blood out.

I know. I'm an awful person.

Now that he's clean from navel- up, I have to figure out what to do with the rest of him. Being topless is one thing, but I will never ever go further than that. But his jeans are a shade of red, and it will most likely drip if I am even able to get him out of the tub.

Hoping that his only injuries are on his back and up, I end up just letting him stay like that until he wakes up. After washing my hands three times, picking out blood from under my fingernails, I scour his medicine cabinet, and pick up the most appropriate thing.

Gauge.

Two, three times, I wrap the white tape around his head diagonally, keeping the gauge placed on the wound above his eyebrow in place. It won't be my problem when he'll have to take it out later, ripping parts of his hair out. Oh well.

Unlike the usual intensity he carries in his glare, the ferocity he so clearly expresses when he stares me down, it all disappears when he sleeps. I can't describe it, its as if he were at peace, not the slightest bit of anger on his face. Before even thinking of my actions, I tuck away a loose strand of hair covering his closed eyelids.

What am I doing?

I came here to clear things, talk everything through. Apologize. Confessions.

The complete opposite happened.

I didn't expect to take care of him.

To see first hand what he has to live through every single day.

I certainly didn't expect to be holding his hand.

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**Follow me on Instagram** awesomest_22


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: I Just came back from two week vacation, and now I have 202 reviews! OH EM GEE! This chapter is very emotional, you have been warned. And this chapter has 2500 words!**

***UH, DON'T GET MAD AT ME... There's a new poll on my bio, and for those of you who can't see it, it's this.**

**Have you read Divergent (trilogy- the whole thing) and watched Victorious? And the choices are; Both, Neither, Divergent only, Victorious only**

**I'd really appreciate it if you guys would vote, and if you can't, then vote in the reviews, or PM me. I don't care how you vote, just make sure I can see it and count it.**

**And I present Chapter 19!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 19

**Tris POV**

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_"If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees."_

_-Khalil Gibran_

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After a while, I realize that I have to stay here, glued to his side, until he wakes up. If I go, there's a risk he could drown in the tub full of bloody water, and that wouldn't be too good.

This will be very hard to explain why I'm here. And why he's the way he is now. There has to be another solution, because nothing good can come out of this situation. I highly doubt he'll be in any shape or form to have a tiring conversation, and he will be pissed to say the least.

Then I notice the little plug, and pull the drain- emptying all the water. Though possible, he probably won't fall and hit his head too badly, so this is good enough. Without any risk of drowning, he just sits there, sleeping for who knows how long. I feel heat rush into my cheeks as I notice the droplets tracing his muscles, dripping everywhere.

Even the way he is right now- wounded and vulnerable, he has always been a looker. I said it once, but I won't say it again.

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The impending danger of Marcus returning at anytime lurks at the back of my active mind, imaging all the horrific possible scenarios. But it would be worse if I left the house completely, and he comes back to see his son sleeping in the bathroom.

I wash my hands again, until I am satisfied with the lack of blood. Not that there was any blood on the start with- I rinsed it all out minutes ago.

To say the bathroom floor is a mess- would be an understatement. Puddles of blood swim everywhere, making it a danger of getting my socks drenched in bloody water. They're already soaked, but I wouldn't hesitate puking if I felt the squish of blood encasing my skin.

Once I am out of the bathroom, I leave the door open, incase of an accident. Making my way back to his bedroom, I search his closet for an appropriate, and simple shirt. I also find a very tiny shirt, that I reluctantly put on, trading it for my saturated one. Tobias' comes just below mid-thigh, swallowing me in it.

Quickly, I return back to Tobias, and squeeze his arms and head through the not-wet and not-bloody new shirt. I smirk to myself when I applaud for putting it on backwards. This isn't as bad as I make it out to be, I get to do things like this.

Maybe, I like this.

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Downstairs, I seat myself on his plush red couch, and watch Attack On Titan reruns on Netflix. It pissed me off when it was revealed that they weren't even working on a Season Two, just the manga, so all those rumors were lies. Oh well.

I can still ship Ermika.

With each passing minute, my posture slouches, and my body sags even more against the couch, with me ending up being sandwiched inside. It doesn't bother me, though. Nothing does. I feel like I could stay in this couch forever, doing absolutely nothing.

After a while, my eyes begin to droop, and I can't focus on the TV, or on anything else. Sleeping sounds so good right now, I don't bother forcing myself to stay up. This couch is extremely comfy.

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Of all the firsts words, his are quite remarkable. A loud thump coming from the bathroom causes me to sit up, any trace of sleep gone. "What the fuck?", he half-whispers, half-yells. His reaction forces a laugh out of me, and I quickly slap a hand over my mouth. So much for stealth.

"Tris?"

"Um. No." Maybe he'll buy it. A lot of people could show up to his house. There's a small possibility that he won't notice my unusually low pitched voice.

"Duuuude. I know it's you." The long slur he puts on his words are probably not on purpose. What did Marcus do to him? Instead of running out of his house in a fit of panic like I planned in my head, I make my way up the stairs into the bathroom, and stare dead straight into his eyes.

He looks away moments later, and I almost pity him remembering the condition I found him in, today. The silence tugs at me, and I can no longer take it. If he's not going to start a conversation, then I will. I came here for a reason. "Your fucking welcome."

Did I mention that I am a horrible converser? "Right, it makes sense for you to show up, and wash me. Like what you see?"

My cheeks turn crimson at his comment, and before he can pick up the embarrassment, I turn around and walk out, leaving him behind me. I retrieve a fresh pair of jeans from his room, and toss it at him, but he catches the flying pants before it can hit the targeted area.

Just as I step out of the bathroom, I can't help but catch his comment, "I liked you better as a blonde."

I face him, a coy smile forming on my lips. "Why? So it would be easier to make fun of me- a stupid blonde?"

He flashes a toothy grin at me, "Something like that." We're one step closer to the older Tobias. Too bad one step isn't enough.

_Don't worry. I like my blonde hair better, too._

Shutting the bathroom door behind me, I wait, walking around his bedroom. My ear pricks at the sounds of his grunts coming from the bathroom, and I decide to tease him. "What are you trying to do? Get off of yourself?"

"Yeah, you wish. You try taking off bloody, wet jeans."

"Just hurry the fuck up."

"You know, you can leave at any time. Why are you waiting?" God, he caught me. Maybe I'll wait it out, the moment he opens the door, I'll rush in and get the answers I want. Five minutes pass, and obviously he's not going to budge until I answer.

"We need to talk." I hear a shifting in the lock, and he pulls open the bathroom door, so there's less than a foot of space between us. I wonder what would happen if I pushed in more, so it was only half a foot.

Tobias stumbles onto his bed, the usual grace in his steps dispersed. It's actually hilarious to watch him try to grab on to his bed, and attempt to pull himself up. Then he moans, and I remember that what's funny for me, is painful for him.

The desk chair seems too close to his bed for my taste, so I pick the spot closest to the door, to sit on. I prop my back against the wall adjacent to the floor. His gaze catches mine and I stare back, trying to understand this. Before I can shoot back a sarcastic comment, he tries to sit up, agitated and tired, "Well, talk."

I waste no time spitting it out, "Why didn't you tell me about your dad?" Millions of other questions race through my mind, but this is the only one I can form with my lips.

_Why did you leave me?_

_Why did you hurt me?_

I expected a lot of diverse answers, but his was off the charts. "Well you haven't been around-" The fuck? I haven't been around? He fucking refused to talk to me for two years, and I'm the one who hasn't been around? For a few seconds, I pretend that this is all just a dream, that this isn't actually happening. I didn't predict the conversation to take this direction just yet.

"Are you fucking kidding me? The hell I haven't been around, did you forget that you were the one that left me? How can you look me in the eyes and say that, you fucking piece of horse shit! I-"

He pinches his bridge on his nose, and cuts me off, "That's not what I meant. I mean the last two months."

Is he retarded? "You expect me to forgive you, and become friends again? How am I supposed to know you're serious about this? What if this is something to use against me, and you'll go back to being Mr. Bitchface again?" Did I just hint that I think he's better now than before? Hopefully he didn't notice that.

"Of course I'm being serious! I dumped Lauren for-"

I start clapping, "Oh really? So you got rid of your arm-candy? How the fuck does that prove anything? I know you'll just get a new one- Nita, Molly, I'm sure you'll take any of those whores throwing themselves at you, I mean seeing the way you live, I thought I pitied you, but actually I don't. Of course, you're just desperate for any love you can get, even if it's from the sluttiest girl in school."

I take in a deep breath, and continue, "Your parents don't love you, and you ditched me, your ex-best friend for what? Now you have no one. Just a father that hits you, and a dead mom to remember! For so long I wished for revenge, pain, anything to hurt you, and once I was at the funeral, I thought I was feeling guilty. But you know what? I'm glad this happened to you! I'm so fucking grateful for all of this!" I gesture with my hands, spreading them in the air.

"Because if I'm going down, I will fucking drag you son of a bitch with me! I will not fall for your 'genuine' plea for friendship this time! To think that I actually came to apologize- I never have to. You probably owe me like a gazillion apologies," I start laughing hysterically unable to control my emotions. I hate when this happens. I usually do something stupid anytime I get too emotionally overwhelmed.

Tobias' lips are moving, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. The shaking begins, and this time, it's not coming from him.

I'm shaking, wobbling at an inhumane speed. My legs buckle from under me, and I only have enough strength to leap onto his now standing form. Physical pain is something he can get over.

Words carry much more meaning. Especially when I whisper shakily, "Hell is too good for you, seeing your mother and brother die at the hands of your father is much better. I hope Marcus keeps using you as his punching bag, over and over again. I've never hated someone as much as I hate you. You hear that?"

Quickly I pry my petite figure off of his, and I just can't stop laughing. The false hysteria won't stop, and I can feel the madness surrounding me, blurring my vision and ultimately blinding me. My hands hold my face, my back arched, in a ball to cocoon myself. Slowly, then quickly, I rock back and forth, crossing the fine line between laughing hysterically, and crying hysterically.

The tears drip down my face at a rapid pace, and I can't stop the raspy laughs from leaving my throat. I lift my head and ignore the salty tears on Tobias' face. "I hate you so much. I thought that this would be enough revenge to make me happy, but it's not enough. The pain isn't enough."

Then I begin to scream, "I WANT YOU TO FEEL THE PAIN I FELT! I want so fucking bad for you and everyone else in this cruel world to go through what I had to. You think you're the only problem in my life? Do you know what you did to me? I CAN'T EVEN BE FUCKING HAPPY ANYMORE! NOTHING I DO CAN BRING HAPPINESS, I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER HAPPY! You ruined me, and I want the same to happen to you, so bad." The tears obscuring my sight and the soreness of my throat signal me to stop, but I just can't. I have to keep trying. To make him understand what he did to me.

"Because of you, my life is ruined. I have no one, NO ONE. My parents don't give a shit, Caleb's in jail, I have no one to talk to! No friends! But this is funny for you, right? You wanted me to a lonely geek? Just so you could watch me burn?" A sob escapes but at this point I'm too far gone.

I can't stand, risk of losing balance, and I don't want to sit. I just want to disappear. Because now, I finally realized the truth. It's not going to get better for me, because I'm too broken. And I can't be fixed.

My arms quiver, and I see that Tobias is looking at me, mouth wide open. I'm going to shove him when I notice what he's staring at. My eyes trail his shocked gaze, all the way to the naked sections of my arms. What I carefully placed on this morning, enough to cover any evidence of just how truly devastated I am- is gone. I don't bother moving, because it's too late, he's figured it out.

The bracelets. They're gone. The black beads scattered all over the room, not giving me a chance to hide them.

I cry now, because I know I'm done for. He knows my secret. He knows it.

And he's going to tell everyone.

That Tris Prior slits her wrists, and is an attention whore. This is it.

It's over.

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**Just as a reminder - Vote in my poll.**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: *t0bias3at0n There will be a season two, but they aren't working on it yet. They said that because they're choosing to work on the manga, which I am upset about because I hate the AOT/SNK manga. We're supposed to expect the second season somewhere in 2015. :(**

**Anyways, this chapter is a flashback, but I didn't feel like putting the whole thing in Italics because it's annoying to read it that way. So just know that this takes place two years ago, end of summer vacation.**

**I don't know about all of you, but I get offended in Divergent when Veronica Roth said Tris was short, not at first, but later I found out she's 5'2. C'mon, I'm almost fourteen and I'm just a little under 5'3. Is that really that short? I thought Tris was like 4'8, because that's midget height, and she's always calling herself short and stuff, but at my school, most people are around my height. **

**Is everyone in Divergent like 6'0 or something? Because in my opinion, anything over 5'5 is TALL. Seriously, how tall are you Veronica Roth? HOW TALL?**

**That was my little complaint of the day.**

**I think you guys will like this chapter's quote...**

**Enjoy, and please review! Pretty please? With sugar and a cherry on top? **

**See how I updated back to back because of the fifteen reviews I got yesterday? Your reviews energize me, and make me want to write more. Now I won't be one of those authors who withhold updates until they get to a certain number of reviews, because that's mean. But please do review and tell me what you like!**

***OH AND VOTE IN THE POLL, REVIEWS, OR PM ME.***

***PLEASE CHECK OUT MY NEW STORY, DARK PASTS. REVIEW!***

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 20

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose." _

_― Veronica Roth, Allegiant_

* * *

_Two years ago..._

He wasn't responding. We Facetimed every other day. He wasn't responding.

Eighth grade was over, and so was summer vacation. It went by so quick, and the fact that I will be in high school this year, scares me.

My family and I just returned from Disney Land, California, and even though it's no Disney World, I enjoyed it. We have extended family over there, so every summer, LA is where we stay. And this summer, instead of the normal two weeks tops away from Chicago, my aunt found her son was laundering money, so we left for two months.

When I first told Tobias, it was a bit difficult, primarily because between the both of us, the number of friends we have are haunts me. It doesn't help that we both are very unapproachable people, with very strange antics. Tobias and I were the type of people to stay home and watch movie marathons on School Dance nights. We were the type to make references that no one would get. He was weird. I am weird. We're okay.

So I promised I would FaceTime every other day, and we'd fall asleep with each other on the phone, we being the last voices we heard. That was the first month.

Then last month, is when everything started to whirlwind. Where he would end our calls earlier, making excuses that he was busy. Act colder, as if we haven't known each other our whole lives. And skip sessions.

And now, he doesn't even pick up the phone, text me back. Nothing.

I'm worried. I haven't seen Tobias in two months. What has happened that changed us so much?

"Beatrice." I snap my head in the direction Caleb was calling my name, "I think you should pick that up." I turned a light shade of red, quickly snatched my bra off the floor, and ran out of the room. No doubt Caleb will taunt me for that.

Unlucky me, he chases me around the house; me running out of breath causes me to slow down, and he tackles me onto the floor. I punch him lightly in the face, but strong enough for me to push him off. I stick my tongue out at him. "I'm not the one with the SpongeBob boxers."

"Beatrice, Caleb. We're leaving!" I went back to my bedroom, and rolled my sleek black luggage towards the doorway, placing it near my brother's.

"Shoot, I forgot my charger. I'll be back." In truth, I didn't forget my charger, but I wanted to FaceTime Tobias one last time, and I can only do that with wifi. "Come on, pick up the phone." I wait a minute, trying not to push my parents' patience, and try voice calling him. Why won't he answer me?

"Beatrice, hurry up!"

I rush back holding my phone in one hand, and my charger in the other. We exit the home, checking one last time that we've got everything, left nothing behind. My uncle drove us to the airport, helping us with our luggages. My aunt and cousins tailing behind our car, to say goodbye at the airport. Everyone hugs, and says their goodbyes. No matter how hard I try, I can never make it look natural, wrapping my small arms around other people awkwardly.

There's only one person I could hug, with no problem. He's been my best friend for over ten years.

* * *

"What the heck? There used to be free Wi-Fi! Now I have to pay four dollars per hour?" I swear everyone's getting cheaper by the minute. But I don't cling onto the annoyance for long, this is just a two hour flight.

I can go two hours without Wi-Fi. But I was planning to try communicating with Tobias one last time, and if he didn't pick up, well, I don't know. Me and Caleb did rock paper scissors for the window seat, I won. For some reason, despite the fact that I've seen the same chain of events millions of times before, I love watching the airplane lift off, every time.

With nothing better to do, I play Geometry Dash with Caleb, me being the ultimate gamer. I've completed every level except for Dry Out, and it bugs me to no end. I can't get above forty-nine percent, always getting stuck upside down and jumping onto the triangles. Though my highest score is a ninety-two percent in Dry Out.

Caleb eventually gives up after thirty-eight attempts, and I don't blame him. Can't Let Go was pretty hard.

I turn away towards the window, watching aimlessly at the white clouds we are flying through. After awhile, I decide to plug in my earphones, and listen to whatever sounds good on my playlists. You know that feeling you get when you want to listen to music, but nothing sounds good? I keep pressing next until it goes into repeat, and I rip out my earphones in frustration.

Something is bothering me. And I know what it is.

"Quit it." Caleb hisses in annoyance. I didn't even notice that I was tapping my foot. Instead, out of boredom, I swing my body back and forth in my seat, breathing heavily through my mouth. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"Can I have some water, please?" I ask the flight attendant that came over. I whisper to Caleb, "Where are those sleeping pills? I know you have them."

His nostrils flare in anger when he realizes that I know his secret. Quietly he fishes for a small bottle carrying the whitish-colored pills in his "man-purse thing" strapped across his shoulder. I open my palm, and he drops the tiny pill inside. How he brought that onto the flight beats me, and I don't bother wondering over how he concealed it. It doesn't matter. I need it.

Just like I planned, the pills don't work on me, but it does make me relax a bit. I don't understand why Caleb was so upset about giving me a stupid pill, if anything, I'm not bothering him anymore.

Incase I do fall asleep, I snap on my phone onto the black OtterBox carrier, and clip it onto my faded jeans. Tucking my hair properly into my hood, I place my head against the headrest. Somehow, I don't trust when they say they clean the airplanes, because it disturbs me how many people have used this seat before me. Perhaps they had lice.

Maybe they peed their pants.

* * *

It's about twelve in the afternoon by the time we hail a cab, which takes us directly to our house. I help my parents bring in all the baggages, and take mine into my room. The familiar environment is soothing, but not much.

The dirt from the day and the airplane bother me to no end, so I jump in to my tub for a quick shower, and enjoy the therapeutic feelings of water running through my hair and down my body. I've always liked showers.

Once I'm dressed in some very short shorts and a random purple sleeveless top, I shrug on a sweater despite the warm summer weather. Unlike other girls my age, I rarely go out without a jacket or sweater of some sort. Primarily because of my self-conscious feelings of being bare chested while some teenagers in my school have like, C-Cups. Puberty is strange. And annoying. I'm fourteen and I'm barely five feet, so it's very discouraging to say the least when I look in the mirror.

Unable to handle my curiosity, I tell my mom I'm heading out to Tobias' house. She doesn't question it and neither does anyone else. I mean, where else would I go? I'm probably the most socially awkward person I know, and I have no friends except Tobias. She knows that, so she never questions me further when I say I'm going out.

* * *

Uneased feelings creep into my head as I make my way over to my neighbors' house, with all the possibilities of why he hasn't answered playing in my head. I knock politely on the door, even though his driveway is empty. His parents are out.

The door opens, and I tackle Tobias into a bone-crushing hug. I missed him in the past two months.

But his reaction catches me off guard.

Instead or returning the hug, he pushes me off and slams the door behind us. That was incredibly rude, something's going on. "Uh, hey. Why didn't you answer my calls?" I ask as neutrally as possible. If he's mad at me, then I don't want to sound like I'm blaming him. That will only make it worse.

He looks anywhere and everywhere but at me, which is odd. After an eerie five minutes of awkward silence I speak up, "Is anything wrong? You're acting a bit" I pause, trying to find the right word to describe it, without angering him any further, "different." I take a breath and so does he, "Are you mad at me?"

This is abnormal. I swear, we were on the best of terms when I left, is he still sour about me leaving for two months? But that wouldn't explain why he just stopped calling at the one month mark.

I snap my fingers at his face, "Tobias, Tobias. Hey. Tobias?" He's worrying me. And to top it all off, he's been having an attention span issue lately, but I think I am the only one who's noticed.

"I think you should leave."

"What?" I say in utter shock, my voice an octave higher. Never in a million years would I have expected him to kick me out of his house. It's just that, we're best friends. He can't do that, can he?

I tried being nice, but he won't even look me in the eyes. I tap him lightly on the shoulder and ask him with more affirmation this time. "What's going on with you?"

"Leave me alone." I step back when he says this. This is not the Tobias I know. I bite my fingernails, scared of him.

"I-I don't understand. What did I do wrong?" The possible answers frighten me, but the reality scares me the most.

"Can you leave me the fuck alone?" Tobias never curses, this is new. You'd think that he would be the type to use strong words, but he's usually avoiding using words like that to express himself. It's like I'm looking at an entirely new person. I don't like it.

Being passive obviously isn't working, so I begin to talk with more vigor. "Dude, what's your problem? When I left, you were totally fine. What happened?"

This time he looks directly at me, his eyes like a burning fire, carrying anger and power inside. His expression is none like I've seen before, pure hatred. Towards me.

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

This time, I'm unable to contain myself, "What the hell did I do wrong? Why are you so mad? Tell me!"

And that's when everything happened. The fighting. The screaming. The crying. And by the end of it all, I still haven't received a direct answer to why he's doing this. I wasn't able to stop the tears from trailing down my face, because I realized something.

He hates me.

He truly hates me.

And that day, I was broken. Because I lost a part of myself, he was the most important part of me. And now he's gone. I feel all the strength go out of me, and I fall to my knees beside the table and I cry, then, and everything inside me screams for just one more laugh, one more word, one more glance.

One more.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Idshipus007- I'm glad you noticed that! The previous chapter showed how much she changed in the past two years, including adapting a habit of cursing to defend herself.**

**nerdyandlovebooks- Don't get mad at me but the actual average height of a woman, (In the USA) to the National Center for Health Statistics, the is 5 ft 3.8 in, or 5'4. **

**dauntlessprodigy4610- Yes! Yes! Thank you for noticing- Tobias has changed a lot!**

**guestie- I agree with you, I quit reading a lot of fanfics like that because Tris just forgives them like it was nothing, which is very unrealistic. I've been trying my best to preserve her personality without changing it too much in this story, and I'm glad you've noticed that.**

**Rae- Though I love Ariana, I love Victoria Justice more than anyone in the whole world. She's genuine, not a fake, and I don't understand why Ariana is significantly more popular than her. Like on Instagram, Ari has 13million followers, and Vic has 2.8million, what?! Vic is the best!**

**Thank you guys for reviewing, you have no idea how much it means to me. This chapter was long overdue! My writing is horrible here, and I apologize, so I tried to make it up by making it longer (Can you believe it is 3001 words? Well, this AN is 150ish words), and filled with quotes from DIVERGENT~! TRY SPOTTING THEM!**

**REVIEW AND READ MY STORY- DARK PASTS!**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 21

**Tris POV**

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_"Like a wild animal, the truth is too powerful to remain caged."_

_-Candor Manifesto, Veronica Roth_

* * *

I was truly exposed. He knows. He knows.

And he's going to tell everyone.

But instead of the smug smirk I would expect, he just stands there, completely still. As if in shock. Why would he be shocked?

Losing balance, I take a step back, but trip over my own two feet. Worried that the same would happen again, I remain on the floor, pushing myself up by my elbows. Our eyes make contact, and for the first time, I stare at him with fear, fear of the unknown of what his possible reaction might be. Fear of my guesses.

Five minutes have passed- I know because I've been counting. And his feet are still planted to the ground, the same surprised expression written on his face. It's over, now he might act like a sympathetic, but I know that by the end of the week, everyone will be pointing and whispering about me. I hear my heartbeat. I have been looking at him too long, but then, he has been looking back, and I feel like we are both trying to say something the other can't hear, though I could be imagining it. Too long - and now even longer, my heart even louder.

My secret is out, I'm an emotional freak. The one thing I've kept guarded, successfully for two years; everyone will hear. People will laugh mercilessly, and make my life an even worse hell.

I'm done. I'm so done with all this shit I've been putting up with. I deserve happiness, and I can't let him ruin me again. I was just starting to pick up the broken pieces and glue them back together, when he came in with a hammer.

I threaten him, "If you tell anyone, I won't fucking hesitate to let them all," I pause, a sob racking my body. The tears won't stop, and neither will I, "that, that your father-" I can't continue, and choke on my sobs. This time, I don't attempt to hide or cover them, and cry in front of him- not caring what he thinks. It's over.

It's all over for me.

All along, I thought that as revenge, I could hurt him, like he did me. But I can't. Physical pain is easy, it doesn't take much to punch and kick a person. Neither is insulting. But threatening, I could and still cannot do to him. Because no matter what, it's impossible for me to look him in the face- and not remember the sad fact, that even though the result of our friendship was devastating, I cannot ignore that we were once friends. The best of friends.

So if that makes me weak, not being able to protect myself against someone, who doesn't care, than I am a coward. A coward who can't hurt someone who made her life a living hell for two years.

In the moment, I am a mess, back arched, curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth. The makeup I applied this morning drips down my face, black marks, from the wet tears. And I realize, that I haven't changed at all. Between the black clothes, the heavy black makeup, and the abrasive personality, I am just the same emotional, weak girl from two years ago, the day he broke my heart.

I haven't been getting better at all, instead my life has been spiraling downwards, turning me more animal than human. It's all his fault. And I can't even hate him for it, because I am powerless to hate someone that I trusted more than anyone, years ago. So I decide to trust him once more, and break down in front of him, not caring that I know deep down, that Tobias is gone. He left two years ago, and I will never find anyone like him. Now, I'm realizing that it isn't right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first, even though it's so tempting.

I fell for the temptation, and ended up a mess, and with him knowing truly how broken I am.

* * *

"Why do you do that to yourself?" There is no point in covering them up, no excuse I can tell. He knows exactly what they are.

Without an ounce of conviction in my voice- instead much fear, "My life hasn't been that great." So many alternative answers rush through my head, but I don't voice them. He would never be able to understand, no one would. Only another cutter. But I wish I had chosen a different response, because it seems a little tacky that I mark myself with scars, while his father does that to him. I started out of free will. He never had that choice.

His eyes move away from mine, carrying no pity. I would have been disappointed if they had, "I know I hurt you, badly. But, I thought you could get over it." He sighs, "You don't have to worry about going home, you never have to worry about grades, and you intimidate everyone." Tobias says something else, under his breath, but I could not catch it.

Unlike my usual growling and spitting out venomous responses, I try to understand his situation. It's true, maybe my brother had- but my parents have never said once to my face, that they valued me any less, and they've never laid a hand on me. And if the school was desperate enough to pay me to tutor, I don't have to worry about my grades.

But intimidation? Would I really believe that everyone was, too scared, to ever talk to me? Interactions at school were a rarity, and people usually liked to distance themselves from me, which I pretended didn't bother me. I was never afraid to speak my mind, either. Did I really intimidate others?

"My parents may have never hit me, but it did hurt when they were focused on Caleb, and I was a burden. Throwing myself into school and studying, of course made me do good, the only thing I'm good at, really. Intimidating others made me friendless. So in the end, I was missing the only person I ever had, to talk to, and you made me miserable. It wasn't exactly the nicest feeling, hearing you call me bitch in front of the whole school."

Not that I would admit it out loud, but I can't remember the last time anyone said I love you, to me. The lack of warmth in the past two years, had turned me cold, and I grew a mask to hide the nightmare I was living in. And it made me even more hated.

"Yeah, well I have the worst family life, and it will be worse when my average for the semester is put up on the ParentPortal. It's so bad, that I need a tutor to barely pass. And all my friends, they're fakes who know nothing about me. Which I think is far worse than being friendless."

"Well isn't that easy for you to say, hm? Why don't you keep rubbing your popularity in my face?" He's never had to go to school, and watch others fall into a perfect, conversation with countless friends surrounding them, to trust. He's never had to secure a table at lunch just so he could sit by himself, and has never had to eat in the bathroom stall.

He's never had to run a razor blade across his skin, to feel alive.

"I'm not rubbing anything in your-"

"Tutoring you was the only time I ever actually spent that much time with another person my age, did you know that? Does it make you feel better?" I honestly don't know what I am going at, right now. He didn't say something offensive, but it's too hard to accept the fact that we could have a conversation without arguing. Too much nostalgia.

Unexpectedly, he bites the inside of his cheek, as if he were swallowing something foul. "It wasn't easy to do all those things to you."

My eyebrows cross, "Then why the fuck would you do it?" How hard is it to understand, that I don't give two shits how it made him feel. I want to know the reason he did.

"I don't know, I was, just. I fucked up, okay? I was jealous that you had a family that cared about you, and you never had to worry about anything, like hiding bruises and making up lies for them, like I did."

Somewhere inside me is a merciful, forgiving person. Somewhere there is a girl who tries to understand what people are going through, who accepts that people do evil things and that desperation leads them to darker places than they ever imagined. I swear she exists, and she hurts for the repentant boy I see in front of me.

But if I saw her, I wouldn't recognize her.

The most violent thing I've ever done, without even thinking about it- I bring my leg back, and swing it, picking up velocity, and kicking him right in the balls. "Stay the hell away from me. You coward."

"No." If it weren't for my fuming rage at the moment, I would laugh at the sight before me, Tobias struggling to push himself up, clutching unto his nutsack like it was a lifeline, and groaning in pain. "No. I'm tired of you deciding when you want to act nice to me, and inhumane the next moment. Here I am, genuinely sorry, and you won't listen. I regret, okay? I regret it a lot more than you think, and you refuse to see it because of your biased-"

"Biased? You think I'm biased? That's a lot coming from your fucking mouth, after treating me like fucking garbage for so long." Perhaps he was trying to say the right thing, but it always come out wrong.

"No, no. I mean, I'm sorry. I really am."

* * *

Ten minutes later, we are seated downstairs in his dining room, I'm rocking on my chair, pushing back on my feet against the table. Tobias uses two chairs, one to sit in, and one to stretch his legs out.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry that I don't regret hurting your buddy." I say, as he positions the ice pack on his, friend.

"I deserved it."

"I could do it again. Cuz', that's, not nearly all you deserve." l

"Am I forgiven?" Idiot. I may never forgive him. It's all up to me, and I won't settle until I know he's one-hundred percent genuine.

"No. I never said that." Though it may be selfish for me to enjoy the pain he is in right now, I will certainly not forgive him, at least not now.

"Then what do I have to do?" He asks, gritting his teeth and mulls a few curses under his breath, as he ices his injuries.

"Stop bullshitting me. And I'll decide." I hold all the cards in the game now, and if he really wants my forgiveness, he'll fight for it. Things might just go my way, for once.

After much silence, his next question offends me, "Is your arms the only place, you, um, do that?"

"Like I'll fucking tell you." I want to grab him, tell him that cutting is an addiction, that it helps and hurts me in the same time. I would, and wouldn't be here without cutting. The feeling thrives inside me, at times, begging me to draw little white lines across my arms, inner thighs, even my belly at times. I would stop if I could. But I need to do it.

"You curse a lot more." He says, turning his head sideways and biting his lip, drawing a bit of blood.

"You annoy me a lot more." Suddenly, my fingernails are of great interest, as I pick at them, noticing tiny white blobs under the nails. I hate having a vitamin deficiency.

"When's your douchebag sperm donor coming back?"

"That's a creative name. And I don't know. Hours. Days even." I can't disguise the sadness I feel listening to how he lives. And the fact that he's telling me, and I haven't admitted anything to him, is kind of an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I can live with it.

I've dealt with guilt before.

Suddenly, I hear my phone blaring from upstairs, the Dragon Ball Z Kai theme song. Without even looking back, I run up his seventeen stairs, throw his bedroom door open, and grab my cellphone.

"Beatrice, it's almost ten, are you coming home?" My mother questions me, and I completely forgot that it was getting darker outside. But I can't just leave Tobias like that...

"No. Bye." In case she changes her mind, I say bye and hang up on the phone. If she really wants me to go home, she'll have to come and get me, and then I can prove that Marcus has been abusing Tobias all along. Honestly, I have all the proof I need, but Tobias most likely wouldn't want me to tell anyone. Just like I want him to keep secret about 'my problem'.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I walk slower this time, down the stairs and back to Tobias. But the weirdest thing has happened. "I-I-I was, um. You know?"

"Yes, I know." I decide to tease him, of his pants-less condition. He painfully pulls on some shorts, and now I can fully admit that I've seen more of this boy than I have ever needed to. His face is red.

"T-rex boxers? Really?" Hiding my true self behind a mask had made me an exceptionally good actor, so I am able to stop the crimson from coloring my face in embarrassment at catching him at the wrong moment. He wasn't naked, but it wasn't everyday you see a teen boy changing. Or me changing him, I recall doing this morning.

I've earned my welcome, "Congratulations, I get to spend the night here. Since I am the wounded one, I get the bed."

"I just got kicked in the balls, and you're the wounded one?"

"Yes. You hurt my feelings. Of course I get the fucking bed, retard." He trails behind me, as I strip his bed clean and use new sheets and a blanket. No way in hell am I sleeping in Tobias-used bedding. "Unless, you want to sleep in your parents' bed." He gets a pained expression on his face, and I smile to myself, knowing that I can hurt him still. It will be a game I play, hurt him, and manipulate him into thinking he owes me more. And it's not a lie, he's treated me shittly. I'm entitled to my fun.

Once I am under the covers, I hear shuffling, and get a peak, Tobias setting up the bedding I tossed at him, on the floor beside me. I have to remember 'not' to step on him in the morning. "Good fucking night, asshole."

I like this cursing thing.

* * *

The sunlight pours into his room the next morning, and to my surprise, and relief, Tobias is still cocooned in his blankets on the floor beneath me. Perfect.

I stick one foot out, and then my arms. Next thing I know, I am falling on top of him, my knee hitting him in his gut.

"I totally saw you there." I say, disclosing the fact that I knew he was there, and fell on him on purpose. Tobias groans, then sits up, rubbing his eyes. He gives me a "really?" expression, and I just smirk, pushing myself off of him, causing him more pain. "You're making breakfast.", I yell at him, and lock myself in the bathroom.

Last night's conversation was really triggering.


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: For some reason, I'm feeling nostalgic today, remembering my English teacher from two years ago. I hated her, and the special ed. teacher that was there too. So, in rememberance of having a hellish English class that year, I put a quote from a book we read in that class.f**

***If I get 275 reviews, I will post a new chapter tomorrow. But if I don't (I'm a little busy this week) you will have to wait a few days when I won't be so busy. **

**PLEASE REVIEW AND READ MY NEW STORY *_DARK PASTS*_**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 22

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me." _  
_― S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders _

* * *

Last night's conversation was really triggering.

Tying my hair back in a slick ponytail, I wait until I hear thumps coming from the stairs, telling me that Tobias has gone downstairs. Now that I think about it, this situation is more confusing than ever. Are we friends? No. But do I hate him? I honestly don't have a clue. I can only hope that things will sort themselves out.

A layer of sweat coats me as I think about what I am doing, and how wrong it is. Carefully, I do my best to be quiet, lifting various items and opening up his medicine cabinet.

And I see it, I fucking see it. Why the hell he has it, I don't know, but I grab it, turning it over in my hands as if it were to disappear into thin air if I looked away. A straightedge razor. I don't even have to worry about breaking off the plastic, this is easy. Almost too easy.

After washing it, I slip my jeggings off, positioning it adjacent my inner thigh. I can't do it on my arms, he would see it. I give myself five seconds, five seconds to either have strength and not do this, or to wallow in my depression and go ahead.

Five mere seconds is not enough. I am weak, so nothing stops me as I draw two lines across my skin, the red blood dripping out. But it's not enough, and two turns into three, and three turns into four, which later becomes seven. I am weak. I am weak.

Once the gauge is in place, I bandage the seven new red wounds, and can't help but feel guilty. And the feeling increases times ten as I pull up my pants, and strap his razor on the inside of my pant leg, completely obscured.

It was just, so much easier than me having to break off the plastic off my disposable razors back home. I guess Tobias will have to buy himself another straightedge one. The floor is easy to clean, and afterwards no trace of my blood draw is visible. Perfect.

"Tris, what are you doing in there?" Uh oh, he's right outside. I can't let him know, he can't have any idea of what shit just went down.

"You have two guesses."

"Um. I made scrambled eggs." I wash my hands, noting his strawberry scented soap. He still loves strawberries. Scrambled eggs may not be my favorite food, but who am I to argue, when I am starving? I swing the door open, and come face to face- well more face to chest with Tobias. He's always been taller, and now, he's eleven inches taller than me, him at 6'1.

I look up at his face, and he looks at me, and he is trying to see, if I'm hiding something in my eyes, but I look at him, firm expression in place. I won't succumb to revealing everything, his stare doesn't have that kind of affect on me. Anymore.

However, I should of double checked for any extra leaks, and I literally facepalm when he says, "Um, what's up with your uh..."

Think, think. What looks like blood? Ketchup? Barbeque sauce? But I have a much better idea, blood looks like blood. Blood is blood. "I got my, period." The leak in my inner-thigh are in the same spot from where my period stains could be during my special time of month. So, it's a very believable excuse. And he really can't, doubt me, because that would involve getting some very embarrassing proof.

"So, um. I have, some uh...shorts? You could borrow them." He disappears, and I wait, not knowing what to do. He really thinks I have my period. And if it was embarrassing enough before, this time I redden ten times more when he returns, shorts in one hands, and female underwear and a pad in the other.

"Oh my fucking God, I-" And I can't handle myself, and I start to laugh, and he manages to crack a smile. "Thanks."

I have no choice but to change into the shorts, but I am definitely not using the other two. But I pray that my underwear isn't stained from the blood.

Today's probably one of my most luckiest, because no blood has coated my underwear. What do I do with it? Thanks to lying, I'm stuck in a situation where I have to stash the underwear in his hamper, where he will find it soon, and notice that it is unused. But I have no choice, so I go ahead and do that, and wrap the plastic cover of the pad in toilet paper, and throw it in his garbage.

As I study my reflection, I come to one conclusion. Two months, my hair was black with blue tips. Last week, I noticed how faded my hair was getting from the dye, so I found some pretty interesting results after googling how to remove dye. It turns out you can use a laundry detergent and shampoo combination to get the dye out. I should do it soon, because I think my blonde hair was better. Since my haircut, I've gotten a trim, and it has grown just over an inch.

Though the rest of my look was an improvement, I think it would've been better if I left my hair alone, two months ago. But I don't regret it.

Five minutes later after aimlessly staring in the mirror, I wash my hands and exit. I would never admit it out loud that his shorts are quite comfy. Concealing the razor was a bit more challenging, so I stuck it in between my bra and skin, making bending over a challenge.

Downstairs, he sits, stretching his legs onto another chair. I smirk, and pull out my own, sitting gracefully. I like this.

* * *

He later explains that when his father disappears for the whole night, he usually won't be coming home anytime soon. So, I guess that's his way of telling me to stay. I don't care anyways, I've got nothing better to do. And maybe, I like being around him. That does not mean I forgive him by any means necessary.

I guess that's why I enjoy the strain on his face, when he attempts to stand up and wash the dishes. I am currently flopped over on the couch, not daring to move. The remote is out of reach, so I play the Kim Kardashian game. Simon's constant photo shoots are getting super annoying.

When he comes into the sitting room, it's my signal to sit up right, and click my phone off. "So. What's today's plans?"

"Uh. Nothing?" I quirk my eyebrow up, and release a huff, acting as if he's ruining my day. Little does he know, that this is the most teen thing I've done in a while.

"Do you have any movies?" He shakes his head no, so we open up Netflix. I settle on re-watching the Saw III. Honestly, I think that was the best one, well the scariest one. Throughout the whole movie, I catch Tobias sneaking glances at me, most of which I catch him by staring back. We barely paid any attention to the screaming and gore in front of us, because halfway, I realized I was watching him more than the TV.

To prevent this from getting any worse, I keep my mouth shut and refrain from asking why he was looking, at me. My posture immediately slouches, and I didn't know I was tense, before.

"That was disturbing." So he did watch some scenes. The Saw series weren't particularly my all-time favorite, but it was getting there.

"It was beautiful." As soon as the words leave my mouth, his eyes widen, and his eyebrows furry upwards. I give him, a 'what?' look, and he starts to play with his fingers.

"I don't know, I thought you would want to watch something, like, I don't know. The Notebook, or something." The Notebook, the Notebook. What was that again? I rack my brain for anything about it, and only receive an image of two people desperately clinging onto the other, kissing in the rain, on the cover of a book. Oh, that. Have I ever read it? No. Have I ever watched it? No.

I decide on being coy, "How is it that you've watched something like that, but I never have?" Obviously he's watched it before if he's talking about it. Tobias doesn't answer, because I already know why. Arm candy like Lauren like fluff. What better than a love story? It just now occurred to me that he could've been forced into watching a chick flick with his girlfriend.

Five minutes of silence, I stand up and walk around, pacing in circles. He remains on the couch, his eyes watching me, I can feel them. "What are you doing?"

What am I doing? But sitting around isn't something I want to do at the moment, so I ignore his question. He asks one more time, before I offer him the middle finger, and he turns his head away, looking opposite me. I wish I could say I felt guilty.

I don't.

* * *

There's nothing fun to do in this house, I note to myself.

The only thing that seemed out of place, was when I swept through his room and bathroom. Strange. My fingers skimmed across it, picking up the bottle. Prozac. I opened it, noting that it was half- empty. Why would he be using anti-depressants? I pop one in my mouth, and take a handful, shoving it in my pocket. Tobias, is a very good actor. I never expected for him to be using Prozac. It pissed me beyond comprehension.

So nothing stops me as I flop back onto the couch, and he still won't look at me. Time to mess around. "You've got a lot of interesting...stuff. Especially in your medicine cabinet. So...you're on Prozac? That's interesting."

Tobias immediately tenses up at the mention of the pill, but his head is still facing the wall. "Aw, is someone upset? I guess this would be a good time, to... run upstairs and swallow that prescription psychotropic medication! How the fuck did you get that?"

If he's ever been this quiet before, I've never gotten as pissed as I am now due to his silence. I march over to him, and there's nothing he can do about it, still weak from his father's attacks yesterday, as I grab him by the collar of his shirt, and pull him up so he's face to face with me. Whatever anger was in me before increases times ten as he averts his gaze, despite the lack of comfort in the given situation.

"I've been through more hell than you have in your whole life. I deserve those fucking pills, and I want to know exactly where. The fuck. You got them." I narrow my eyes, and haul him, with newfound strength, and I don't hold back as I tighten his collar by lifting him up even higher, until I finally win.

But his answer was unexpected.

"Your brother."


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: I can't say much, but Tris gets [NONROMANTIC] mixed feelings about Tobias, in this chapter.**

**First, I have to apologize for my lack of knowledge on Chicago in general, parks and stuff, because I don't live anywhere near there. I live in New York. ****And sorry to the woman drivers I dissed in this chapter. Btw, does anyone listen to Within Temptation?**

**I can really relate to Tris in this chappie, cuz I have the worst spring allergies. That's why I hate Spring. (Are seasons supposed to be capitalized, I don't know.) ****You guys better be grateful, because I typed this whole chapter with my phone, since my laptop wasn't working. No matter how much I love my 5S, this was HARD. **

**I reread it, and I'm sorry if it looks like they're moving too fast in this chapter. But it needed to happen, and Tris wouldn't really be the type of person to do it gradually. She's learned a lot, and sorry if it's too much. *HOORAY LONGEST CHAPPIE BY FAR***

**Out of curiosity, and believe me I am not trying to sound creepy, where do all my readers live? I've always wanted to know.**

**And once again, please review, and read my new story, DARKS PASTS.**

**Could you guys get me to 295 reviews? Pretty please?**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 23

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"Mixed Feelings, like mixed drinks, are a confusion to the soul."  
_

_-George Carman_

* * *

"My-my brother?" I stutter, in disbelief. Of course, where else would Tobias get prescription medication? After all he's barely sixteen, but I didn't expect that. More, like he used a fake ID or something along those lines, or that it was his mother's.

"I don't know what disturbs me more, the fact that my brother was a bit of a drug dealer, or the fact that he got caught and you didn't." Medicine are drugs, and that's a fact. It doesn't seem like Tobias to be involved with illegal actions like that. I have to constantly remind myself that this is not the same person I knew for most of my life, and there are secrets that I don't know about him- and I may never know. This experience is just one glance at what's deep down inside. But for some goddamn reason, my brother is behind bars, and this asshole is here.

Oh yeah, that reminds me. I should probably put him down. "Self-harm is your way of dealing with the pain. This is mine."

"Right, because our situations are totally the same," I yell, exaggerating the totally. This whole thing is starting to get to me, these unexpected surprises. It seems that everything goes wrong when we start to get along.

"I never said that."

"Well it was implied." He stays quiet after I remind him how he compared our lives, and "pain". But instead of my usual fire, it sputters out, and fades. So I just lay on his couch, and watch him hobble to the bathroom, in pain which was partially my fault. The once triumphant expression I would receive at hurting him out of revenge, it is now replaced with a deep ache in my stomach. What is it? Guilt?

He returns after a while, him back in his previous position, perched on the edge of the couch, and I, staring out of the window.

"Are you still mad at me?"

He makes it clear that he's talking about what happened today, with my findings, because he wouldn't be that stupid to ask a question like that about two years ago. So based on the Prozac I found, am I mad at him? No. Human beings as a whole cannot be good for long before the bad creeps back in and poisons us again. Everyone has made mistakes, but it takes strength to forgive. So I do.

In all honesty, I thought I was mad at him when I found those anti-depressants, but now, the feeling is just a numbing one. It wouldn't be fair for me to call him out on using illegal medication when moments ago, I swallowed some of those very pills, making me a hypocrite. And I have to give him credit, although he made my life shitty, the main reason was that his was too, and I was too preoccupied at the time to notice his life was spinning out of control.

He has a right to be depressed, because he had no one to confide in. The bruises or scars I would occasionally see on him years ago, I just passed off as injuries while playing, or even getting into fights. The collective absences in school, me and everyone else saw as "ditching class", so he was all alone in the abuse. But that still didn't permit him into hurting me, just because he was hurting too.

As for now though, I can understand why has the pills. And now, it seems like a much better alternative than my addiction. In the near future I ever find the power to stop, the scars will never fade, and will always be a constant reminder to my unhappiness. It will be a portrait perfected over the years, each line a stroke, to paint a picture of imperfection.

And maybe one day, the pain might just overpower me, and my parents could find me one day, in my bathroom, lying dead in a pool of blood- a vertical stripe down my arm instead of the usual horizontal ones. The pain, the struggle, could all get to me, and maybe my brain would just quit on me, enough with all the pain. It could be the end for me. I wouldn't have to put up with all the pain.

We sit in silence, occupied with our own thoughts.

* * *

"You have to go home." The quiet peace that we were once enjoying is shattered, as he states that simple sentence.

"Why, I'm not the one that smells bad." As soon as the words slip from my mouth, I let out a hearty chuckle. That had zero to do with what he just said, but I wouldn't take it back if I could, not because it's the truth, it's not. But it feels nice to tease someone, or joke. My unapproachableness has its downsides, humor replaced with constant seriousness. But Tobias and I aren't the type to be funny and laugh, we are the stoic, rigid types.

"No but you...I-I smell bad?" He sniffs his armpits, then squints his eyes, he then continues, "I smell. Awesome."

"Well you have to thank me for that." I state reminding him, that I was the one that washed him. "And I don't want to leave. I can do whatever I like." Shit. I clued in that I enjoyed his presence, but thank goodness for my save. He now thinks that I am immature, for telling him he's not the boss of me, but hopefully he forgot that I let it be known I liked being with him.

"It's been a whole day, he could come back. You need to get out of here." He has a point, things would take a turn for the worse if Marcus came, and found me. It would only take a second to realize that I knew. But a part of me wonders, if he did come, what would Marcus do? He couldn't hurt me, I don't live here. Would I be able to use this information to my advantage, and blackmail him into stopping the abuse directed at Tobias? I guess I will never know, because Tobias won't let that happen.

"Then let's go somewhere." That was a very cocky thing for me to demand, but I most likely won't feel welcomed at home, and neither do I, here. Yet, I want to grasp at every chance I have, to spend time with this shadow of my ex-best friend, even though I won't admit it. So, if going out is the only way, I won't turn down that option.

Neither does he.

I have to kick myself for kneeing him in the balls yesterday, because now I wince as I watch him, slowly getting ready. Actually, all of his movements are slowed, even his speech. I strap on my bag, that hangs off my left shoulder and wraps around my stomach and under my right arm. I shrug on the sweatshirt he hands me, to cover my wrists. It just now occurs to me, that I am wearing Tobias' clothes, and it doesn't bother me as much as I'd think.

We exit the house, and stride over to his silver Hyundai Elantra, which is expensive and high-quality compared to the cars belonging to the rest of the student body population at my school, all driving around in cheap, used cars.

"Do you have any sunglasses?" He searches around, and hands me a pair.

"Here are some that are a little less masculine." It's not like I would've minded any of the others, but I smile inwardly at his attempt to make me comfortable. His engine roars to life, and the tire makes screeching sounds as we zoom as far away from the house of unheard screams.

I never look at it the same way again.

* * *

Nature might be a beautiful to others, but the spring weather is nightmarish for me. I guess Tobias conveniently forgot that, as he patted the spot next to him on the wooden bench, and I sat down, graciously accepting his pack of Kleenex tissues.

If he had anything to say about my loud nose-blowing, he wised a bit and kept his thoughts to himself. Eventually, the skin around my left eye became a little swollen, and I started to tear. My nose was running, and Tobias tried to make the situation better. "Oh. Um. Look at all the...squirrels." He failed.

I began cheering when he decided that I was more suited indoors, and we stood up to leave. But I groaned inwardly when we pulled into the mall's parking lot. Ten minutes later, and we were still searching for an open spot. Well, he was. I found one, one that he refused.

"Just park right there!"

"No. I want to park near the entrance." I blow a raspberry at him, my patience growing thin. Finally, we soon found one two spots away from the Handicapped restricted, but one car came out of nowhere and stole our space.

"It's probably a woman driver, no doubt." He starts to talk about how that's unfair for me to say since I'm a girl, but I gave him a pointed look and reminded him that I can't drive. It was a double victory for me, when we saw an obese woman slam her car door shut.

Tobias later sucked it up, and listened to me. The smirk on my face later dropped as he ran out of the car, almost tripping in the process, and opened my door for me. I raised my eyebrow at him. I mutter an awkward thanks, and we walk into the mall.

"What womanly stores do you want to check out?" Tobias knows I hate shopping, but sitting on a bench watching people walk by is not an option, so I try to make the most out of this unexpected trip.

Hot Topic. I search around the store, while Tobias stands next to me, his posture stiff. I act as if all of this is normal for me, as Tobias switches his glance from me, to a dude standing in line.

This dude has piercings covering every inch of his body, and tattoos all over his skin, and neon green hair, not to mention his septum ring. What would convince a person to pierce their nose? Bravery? I think that's just stupid, there's nothing brave about paying to get a hole there, of all places. How would people blow their nose?

He scares me.

"Oh my God," I point towards the Captain Levi messenger bag, remembering how I forgot to buy it last time. But now that I think about it, the material is kind of crappy, so I leave it there. Finally, I make my way to the line when I notice the tiny pile in my arms. He looks through his pockets, jabbing his hands in each one until he makes a satisfied grunt, and pulls out his wallet.

"I'm paying." I try to sound as intimidating as possible, but Tobias gently shoves me, and hands over the money to the cashier, blatantly avoiding my stares that could kill.

Once we step out, his posture slouches. "That store was..." He stops mid sentence, trying to think of a possible word to use to describe, without offending me. Either way I don't care. His reactions were crystal clear in what he thought of it.

I lead the way over to the food court, not wanting to take part in anymore awkward shopping.

Just like I remember, he eats like a pig, and I smile. I enjoyed this day out.

* * *

"You can't go back there." Marcus might not kill him tonight. He might not even hurt him tonight. But there is a much more permanent meaning to my simple phrase than meets the eye, and Tobias picks up on that.

However, instead of the usual, 'I have to', he attacks, "I thought you wanted me to be in pain."

The guilt doesn't settle well, disturbing me every way it can. I bite my lip, and get the sourest taste possible, even though there's nothing in my mouth. It was so easy for me to say that I wanted him to hurt, and I was thinking that days ago. Hours ago. What happened? Why am I not able to stand by my word, if it was so flippantly tossed around.

I can't swallow the guilt.

He doesn't say anything, but stares down at me, arms crossed.

We stand like that for a while, until I finally muster up the courage to say, "I didn't mean it. I-I." A hand slaps over my mouth, and I look down to see mine limply hanging, closing off what I was about to reveal.

But maybe, keeping what I truly feel won't be helpful. Maybe, the truth is what needs to be heard, and now I've got nothing to lose, "I don't even know what shit I'm saying, anymore. I-I feel one thing, and the next moment, it- just disappears. That was just, a...mood swing."

"So you're telling me that YESTERDAY, was "just a mood swing?'" He caught me. But how do I explain, that sometimes, I'm not always in the best of mind. That I'm not always in control of my emotions, and that sometimes, anger can take over me- make me do regrettable things.

I have to start somewhere. Why not here?

"Sometimes-I'm not always in tune with my emotions." I say meekly. Now, it is his choice to listen to me, or not. I can't decide for him.

"So are you telling me, that you're like, Bipolar or something?" This did not go in the direction I planned.

"NO! No, I'm not-" Wait. I just basically told Tobias that I'm easily emotionally overwhelmed, and can let them control my actions. And, I have much impatience, and get angered easily. So, really, I just confessed that I could be happy one minute, and angry the next. But I do not have Bipolar Disorder.

Right?

"No. I just, I don't have...that. But yeah. I- sometimes I go from sad, to happy, to angry. And I don't always know it. It just- I'm always right in my mind, at the moment." This is not something I could've said to his face before. What is going on?

He stays silent, probably taking into account how screwed up I am. "And, um...I-I do feel bad. I'm sorry about yesterday. It just. I don't know." But the truth is, I do know. And no matter how much he deserves to, how much I want him to hear it, I can't let him bear the weight of it, feeling obligated to accept me. I'm just so alone. And if I say it, it will give me comfort and him back. But this isn't about me. Because if I tell him that, it will be a slap in the face, that it's his fault that I'm alone. So I keep it to myself.

It's now or never. He either chooses to deal with my shit, or not to take it at all. I hold in a breath, nervous for his decision. I've realized, that making him pay by hurting physically, won't solve anything, nor make me feel better. I can't make him take back those past two years, of name-calling, taunting, and betrayal. And now, he's had a breakthrough, realizing that he's been acting exactly like Marcus by hurting me, because he was insecure. And instead of helping him and I heal, I've been pushing him away, only looking for revenge. Revenge isn't what I need. Neither is closure. Because now that I've gotten a glimpse of what used to fill my days with joy, I can't deny the feeling in my gut. I miss Tobias. I can't get rid of him, and I don't want to. I need him.

Now we've both learned. And it's his turn to decide. I had a chance to accept him twice before, and wasted them, blinded by my hurt and anger- misdirected at him. But I know now that I don't have anymore chances, and it has to be him, not I, to choose whether to move on as two people who once knew each other, or the more difficult path- the road to recovery. Forgiveness.

"You don't have to be sorry." A feeling of euphoria overcomes me, when he picks. Maybe I'll have my old friend back, or maybe a new one. A lot has changed since I've last been this close to him, and it doesn't take a genius to see that. The both of us, have grown, and hardened, the old us vanished years ago. He is not the same, and neither am I. We can never forget. But maybe we can be fixed.

"Yes. Yes, I do. It wasn't right for me to hurt you because you hurt me first. And, those things I said, about, you know, I wish I could take them back." I say, ashamed. All those awful threads of curses and wishes, I want to remove from our memories, but it's impossible. We've both made mistakes, that cannot be ignored. But maybe, we can use guilt as a tool, rather than a weapon against the self. We can use it to remind ourselves to do better next time.

And this, itself is a large improvement. It would have been something to laugh at, us establishing a sort of relationship. This would have been unimaginable two months ago. Yesterday.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

I feel like someone breathed new air into my lungs. I am no longer vengeful. I am not angry.  
I am mending.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: So, I want to apologize for not updating. You see, I was forced to stay at my Grandma's house for a few days, and she doesn't have wifi! I wrote this while I was there but I couldn't post it until now. Sorry.**

**Also, I want to warn you guys ahead of time, I hate Indie and Alternative music, and if you're going to be offended, I'm sorry. Just please don't spam me with hate comments, I can't help it, I just can't listen to anything other than pop, hiphop/rap, newage, and occasionally metal. And I thought it would be cute if they had a little argument over "real music" so, don't hate me. And, where I live, (I don't know if it's the same for you), passing red lights are a big deal, because there are cameras everywhere, so if you pass one, they take a picture of your licensce plate and mail you the ticket.**

**Honestly, Tris and I are only two years apart, and I'm freshman this year, and I got my first phone in like sixth grade, and now my iPhone 5S is my third phone, so I'm guessing by the time I'm sixteen, I'll be on my fourth phone. (I'm getting a new one a few months later, and I really don't want another one after, unless they make the iPhone 6). So based on that, I'm predicting that Tris is on her fourth phone, I don't know. Are you guys Apple lovers (like me), or Samsung lovers? (Or something else) What kind of phones do you have?**

**Do you guys like their high school's name? :P**

**LONGEST CHAPTER EVER 4767 WORDS!**

**Get me to 320 Reviews?**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Chapter 24**

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."_

_-Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

We now are sitting in his car, not moving at all. I stare out at the mall parking lot, noting how the sky's getting darker by the minute. Sooner or later, we have to head home, and I don't think any of us are ready for that. Especially him.

"I'm serious. You can't go back there. Tobias-" The shock fogs up my thoughts, and I can't think of anything besides the fact, that this is the first time in two years I have called Tobias by his name. It was always 'you', or some insult.

"And then what? What am I supposed to do?"

The words tumble out of my mouth, before I can filter them, "Stay with me." My eyes widen, and so does his, and I feel frozen in time, unable to react without knowing what he is processing in his brain, whether I have the right to ask him this or not.

"No. No, I can't. You know that." The truth hurts, I can't help his situation. But how much I want to.

"Please." Anything, anything at all would make it better than leaving now, with the knowledge of what goes on behind these doors. "Please Tobias."

He bites the inside of his cheek, hands clutched behind his back. All I can hope is that he is considering my offer, and says yes.

A sudden wave of boldness comes over me, I straighten my posture and stare him dead in the eyes, "If you won't, I'm not going to leave." Would I really do this for him, threaten him for the greater good? This is most likely the only way, for Tobias to listen to me.

"You're kidding me."

"I'm not playing any fucking games. You're coming with me." What I don't understand, and I won't say this to Tobias' face, is that I don't understand why he lets this happen to him. Tobias is a grown boy, and much taller and stronger than Marcus, physically. Maybe when he was younger, he couldn't help the abuse, but now, I really don't get it. Maybe I'm not supposed to.

A plan forms in my head, and I don't clue him in it. "Drive me home." It's not particularly a clever one, but I just hope my parents aren't home. If they are, it will be the typical, 'guy crawls in through the window' thing, and that's something I want to avoid. My bedroom's on the second floor, and that would be a hard task.

He puts it into drive, and we run all the stop signs.

* * *

"Shit." I say, my mom and dad's cars both in my driveway. Marcus' is nowhere to be found, but that doesn't mean that he can't appear at any second. "Alright, park in front of your house."

Once we are both out of his car, I slam both doors shut, while he just stands there looking at me strangely.

"Tell me something. Are you safe in your bedroom? If you're in there, does he bother you? I want the truth." Now Tobias thinks that I am going to let him off the hook, just telling him to stay in his bedroom the whole night. He's wrong, but I need him to think that.

He takes in a deep breath, and sighs, "Usually. Unless he's super pissed." Before I can even ask if today is one of Marcus' moodier days, he knowingly continues, "I don't think so."

"Good." I nod my head at him, then catch him off guard by grabbing his arm- beginning to run silently to my house.

"What are you doing?" I give him a death glare, and yell 'shh'. I don't want to bring attention to us, anyone to see or hear us.

"Just like old times. Alright?" He looks at me, to see through me if I am lying or not. Years ago, he would sometimes climb the smaller tree, then swing from the largest branch onto the oak tree near my window, and would spend the night with me. While he could climb trees with his nimble fingers, despite his weight, I would always try and end up sliding down the trunk and landing painfully on my butt.

So it was always my house, that we had our 'secret sleepovers' or whatever. My skin burns and if it weren't for the coldness, my cheeks would redden at the thought of how innappropriate that sounded. I always pushed the idea of it out of my head when I was younger, only looking at the innocence of it. I almost laugh, saving myself by biting my lip.

"I need you to promise me that you are going to make it through that window, and not run away like a...a pansycake." Pansycake, I remember we used to always call each other that, after discovering it on an online dictionary. One of our favorite pastimes used to be looking through his Webster's dictionary for curse words. I use it now, to lighten the mood, instead of scaring him away. "Wait 'til I'm in there. It might take some time, since my parents might intercept me."

Before I can see him nod his head in surrender, or shake it in disagreement, I break away and walk over the crunching twigs to the front door. I fish out my keys from my purse, and jimmy it into the hole, until the door swings open. I need new keys.

My father stands, arms crossed, and I don't see my mother. "Where were you Beatrice?"

He asks it so quick, that I don't even have time to come up with a believeable excuse. "I was at Tobias'. It's not like I have anywhere else to be." Before he can question him further I brush past him and make my way to the stairs, before I start to climb them, I turn around and remind him, "You wanted me to make friends. I finally made one, aren't you happy?"

Not wanting to talk anymore, I run up the stairs, and shut my bedroom door shut, my best not to slam it. I don't want to get in trouble, but I don't want him to burst in here and see Tobias. So, as descrete as possible, I lock my door, then switch my light on twice, then three times.

Quietly, I unlatch the lever, and push my window upwards, noticing how tiny the space is. Hopefully, Tobias can still fit through it.

I peer down at the ground, and instead meet face to face with Tobias, and I jump back. "Oh my God, I told you to wait." I say agitated, placing my hand over my chest, heaving heavily. He scared me.

A few grunts later, I grab both his hands, and help pull him through, Tobias ending up falling on top of me. Soon enough, my chuckling turns into uncontrollable laughter, and Tobias slaps a hand over my mouth, "What happened to being stealthy?"

That pulls me out of my thoughts. Soon enough, the reddish tint returns to my skin a hundred times, noting how we are now a tangle of limbs. I start to laugh, and push him off of me, and brush off imaginary dust particles off me. Wow. I completely forgot the fact that I am wearing Tobias' clothes. What that must have looked like to my dad.

He pulls the window back down, his muscles rippling as struggles to close it. "I thought you said you got this fixed."

"Nope. Same window." It used to bug him, drived him crazy to no end.

Obviously, it just now occurred to me that he needs something to sleep in, and I don't have anything that would fit him.

But my brother does.

"I'm need to get something. And um, hm...I know! Go hide in the closet!" If my father has the nerve to walk in here to investigate, he will find Tobias. Unless he hides in my closet, that I can slide the panel over shut.

But as soon as I mention it, he loses all color in his face, and his fingers start to fidgit wildly. Is he afraid, of a closet? "Dude, what are you waiting for?"

He sighs, and pushes himself up. Slowly he walks to the closet, and I stand waiting wondering what's so bad about the closet. But as soon as he's in there, I flash him a reasuring smile, and run to my bathroom, grabbing some dirty clothes out of my hamper, then throw them over him. Then I seal it shut, and count to three.

Without wasting a single second, the moment I unlock my bedroom door, I tiptoe to Caleb's room and go through his drawers, taking things that may be Tobias' size. After, I run back out and into my room, and lock it behind me.

My back slides against my door, and I land on the floor, taking deep breaths. That was close. Later, I get up, and open the closet door, and get a bit scared when I see Tobias on the floor, heaving, his head in his lap.

God, how could I be so stupid? "You're claustraphobic, I'm sorry. Come on, get out of there." To make this any worse, he doesn't look up, and I drop everything in my hands onto my bed. Thankfully I have a small build, so I easily crawl into my closet with him.

"What are you doing?" I ask, when he still doesn't make a single move gesturing towards the exit.

"Facing my fears. I don't think it's working." Where would he get a fear like this from?

But instead of voicing my curiousity, I try to reassure him, "Everyone's scared of something. No one can be fearless."

Ten seconds later, I stand up and so does he, and we leave the closet, and I shut it behind me. "Alright, um...you can get dressed in the bathroom." I point to it, handing over some of my brother's clean and unused pyjamas. Without hesitation, he takes them from me, and waltzes over, carefully closing the door behind him.

I saunter over to my bed, and start to strip myself, until I am left in only my shirt and underwear, and my hands reach for my pjs, when the door swings open, and I duck behind the side of my bed, shielding me. I throw one of my decorative pillows at Tobias, "Dude what the fuck? I'm getting dressed."

"Sorry. You didn't say that." Tobias says, covering his eyes with his hands, as I try not to embarass myself anymore than I already have, if that's possible.

"Could you just, go back in there, and count to one hundred." I say, not looking quite at him, directing my eyes at the floor beneath him.

He solemnly nods his head, and seals himself in my bathroom- and I think that all the embarassment for tonight is finally over, when he starts to pee. And I know this, because the walls aren't soundproof.

I don't even try anymore- this is just so awkward, and I laugh in total embarassment, as the situation worsens when he starts to hum. And I'm so done for tonight, that I don't bother to fix my racoon eyes, and only pull on some sweats and a tanktop, and let the hysteria out of me, covering my head with my hands.

Thank goodness, him being the cleanfreak, washes his hands.

"Are you crying?" And this brings me back to reality, not before I release a fit of laughter. Before he can try to decipher the strangeness of it all, I walk past him into the bathroom, and lock the bathroom door behind me. I turn on the fan- I don't want him to hear me in here.

Girls usually take longer, so I push my luck, and lift the tile off, and place Tobias straightedge razor in there, a new part of my collection. After staring at its marvelous, I fit the tile back into place, and begin to remove my makeup, that's smudged all over my face. Only now do I realize how this must of seemed to dad, me returning home after spending the night over at a boy's house, only to come back wearing his clothes, and hair and makeup messed up.

I only pray to God that he doesn't ask, and doesn't assume. Even I know that it won't be like that. But for tonight, I hope so.

Once I exit, I see Tobias take the pillow I tossed at him- positioned under his head, and him resting uncomfortably on the floor. It's not like I'm going to let him take the bed, but I get a far better idea.

"Tobias. Hey. Tobias." I nudge at his arms gently, hoping to wake him up, without setting him into panic. "Get up. Please." He remains there, and I give up, and start to use force. I yank the pillow from under him, and even that doesn't work. How tired is he?

Eventually I run out of ideas, and swallow my pride. I tickle him. "Get. Up. Tobias."

He starts to roll in his sleep, muttering something along the lines of 'five more minutes' or, 'the chocolate bears need me'. The fuck?

I take in a deep breath, and pinch his ear slightly, and he immediately sits up. "Yes. The chocolate bears need you."

"Huh?" He stares at me groggily, and I tell him to follow me. The last time I used the bath was days ago, so it is completely dry. I walk from my room to the bathroom, carrying different sheets and pillows, until I turn my bathtub into a makeshift bed.

"Here. Goodnight. And please, save the chocolate bears." I smirk at him, even though it's evident that it's useless. He's out cold the moment his head hits the pillow, and I leave open a crack through the door as I turn off the light and fan, then jump onto my bed, slipping under the covers.

* * *

It's about five o'lock in the morning, I note as I hear shuffling from the bathroom. He's not trying to leave is he?

My anger susbsides as I quietly walk over, and see Tobias slamming against the tub, a frightened expression on his face, muttering pleas in his sleep. Night terrors.

I rush to his side, attempting to coax him out of slumber, trying everything possible to get him to awake from his horrible dreams. "Tobias. Tobias. It's me. It's me. It's me."

If I don't get him to wake up soon, my tub might end up with a hole in it. Or worse, he might scream and my parents would know what's going on. It surprises me, that he has night terrors, because I don't ever remember him having them. Or if I did, they were probably not this severe, enough to wake me up.

"Tobias, you need to get up. Come on, get up." I grit my teeth and hiss, "Tobias." Nothing. This is a last resort attempt, one that I really wanted to avoid- out of awkwardness. Spraying water on him would shock him out of sleep, and he could yell, so I'm only left with one choice.

My feet slip into the tub, and I wrap my legs around him, so that it appears that I am sitting on his navel area, I won't dare to go any lower or higher. It works, my weight startles him, and he sits up, pushing me off of him by instinct.

"Why are you sitting on me?" My cheeks redden, perhaps him screaming would have been better than this.

"You were having a nightmare." I don't want to know what he's thinking, so I avert my gaze and start to climb out of the tub, grabbing the edges with my hands and lifting myself out. I just now realized I was crushing his legs when he pushed me off him.

"I didn't think it would happen tonight. Sorry."

"Are you going to go back to sleep? I'm not." He shakes his head in agreement, and we walk out of the bathroom. The lights are out, so I can only guess by his silhouette that he sits with his back leaning against the wall facing me, while I lie back down on my bed.

"It's five in the morning. And we have school today." I groan inwardly when he reminds me, that we both have to face the student body. Normally this would be less of a problem, but when I'm going to walk in that building with him, people are going to ask questions.

"Can't we skip?" He's done it countless times before, and I have maybe, less than five times. But I already know the answer, because if we don't face everyone today, then we will have to tomorrow. It's better to do it on a Monday, no one has the concentration to wonder on a Monday. Besides, my parents would force me to go, since they saw me come here last night.

"Uh, I'll get some stuff for you to wear. You, um, hide in the tub." It works, because I pull the shower curtain, obscuring him from view, unless someone was to peek around the side.

My father's faint snores tell me that it's safe, and I walk into Caleb's room, and slide open his closet door. I gather a simple pair of shorts, shirt, sweatshirt, socks, and whatever I think a boy would need. And hair gel.

In record time, I shut the door behind me, and lock myself in my bedroom once again without getting caught. Tobias still sits patiently in my bathtub, and I place all the stuff on the counter, and find an unopened pack of toothbrushes. I hand one to Tobias, and close the door behind me.

"Uh, Tris." He says behind the door, sounding a bit nervous.

"Yeah."

"I um- I found something- um, do you want it?" He's not making any sense, so I swing open the door, and come face to face with a very red Tobias. In his hands are the shorts I gave him, and I see what's the problem.

I didn't bother checking the pockets, but it's in there, and there's no mistake what they are. I bite my upper lip and nervously reply, "I swear, I just found those shorts in Caleb's closet. I was completely unaware, of, its, um...its holdings." I stutter, trying to find the appropriate word. It seems as if Caleb is full of surprises, I mean, this is really unexpected.

Why the hell are there condoms in Caleb's shorts?

I grab the shorts from Tobias' hands, and I run out of my room, into Caleb's, and fling it into his closet which I forgot to close. This is really stupid, but Caleb's clothes are the only ones appropriate for Tobias, so I reach into each of their pockets, and take the second one.

"How about these." He nods in permission, and I leave my room again, but go downstairs, and sneak into my pantry. The dim dawn light provides zero to little sight, so I squint to see what I am picking up. These will have to do for breakfast. And if he's not happy, then he can buy something from the school's vending machines.

"Thanks." He starts to rip open the packaged wrappings and tries not to drop anything, while he devours it all like it will be his last meal. I throw a few snacks into my bag, and get dressed in, of course all-black, skinny jeans, a capsleeve shirt, and Dock Martins, and arrange my bracelets on both my arms in a way that won't reveal my scars.

Just incase, I place a sweatshirt in my bag. I don't feel like dealing with my hair today, so I place it in a high ponytail and begin to work on my makeup.

Ten minutes later, I come out all ready.

Tobias tails behind me, as I pull my door open, failing as it makes a long creak, and I tell him to go first, down the stairs. Then I go, stepping lightly, and we walk past the kitchen and foyer, out to the main entrance.

I check my phone, it's barely six a.m. But I don't want to risk seeing my parents by staying longer, so we pile into Tobias' car, and drive out of the neighborhood.

"Fuck, you need to go home to get your backpack."

"Um no. Not really. Sometimes, I like to camp out in my car, so I leave it here." He points to the backseat, his backpack sitting neatly in the middle chair. Oops, I missed that.

Tobias fiddles with radio, until he stops on a certain channel, moving his head to the beat of the song. But I just sit in my seat, trying to understand how the hell this even is music.

"What shit are you making me listen to?" I remember long ago, Tobias telling me how 'Indie' is more meaningful than pop music will ever be, and I ended up laughing in his face. He may be telling the truth, but face the facts, who's more known, Katy Perry, or Keane?

He scowls at me as I change the station to one playing the familiar upbeat pop music that I always enjoy, and that he hates. "You consider this music?"

"Oh please. This is the best kind of music there is." He doesn't try to change it back, and keeps his eyes on the road instead. I won. "Aw, I hate advertisements, they're the worse!"

He smirks at me cockily, and switches it back to the previous station, playing an even more tasteless "quality song". I swear if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under now.

"YOU PASSED A RED LIGHT!" I scream, though he didn't really, but it makes him a bit disorientated and I take this chance to change it back. He gives me a dirty look, but I couldn't care less.

The once playful expression on my face drained the moment we pulled into VRHS's parking lot, and park near the front. I check the time on my phone, it's fifteen passed six. School starts an hour and fifteen minutes later. As much as I'd like to stay in the car all day, we can't.

But for now, I am frozen, scared. Everyone knows how much we have enemized one another, most taking Tobias' side and joining in on the bullying.

While I was spacing out, I can only guess, the Indie tunes carried out through the car filling my ears with it. "Dude, is there any other kind of music you like, that isn't, you know, so suckish?"

"I have the perfect solution!" He exclaims, then reaches over to the volume button, and blasting the radio, destroying my ears in the process.

This, is his solution? I reach over, and punch the power button, the music ceasing to exist. "We're at school, they could like, kick us out of here, for playing such horrible music." He scolds me for turning off his 'jam', "This is better. Much better." I turn to the window and look out for any distant cars parking near us. So far, we're the only ones here.

"Did you change your phone number?" He startles me with this question, my head snapping towards his gaze.

"No." I've had the same number throughout middle school and high school, only this being my fourth phone. Subconsciously, I never wanted to change my phone number the past two years, it seemed wrong. Like, you give everyone a seven digit code that allows them to communicate with you, but then you go behind everyone's back and change it, telling everyone this is your new number. Only you don't tell everyone, and some people still have your old number and can't contact you, and feel like they're doing something wrong.

I'm looking too deep into this, but I need to concentrate to fight off the nervousness and anxiety. It's like the first day of school all over, a new figure trying to find comfort in the public learning place where kids of all shapes and sizes are gathered in this madhouse. I along with some others, have bearly touched puberty, and others, like Tobias, are completely grown up.

Well, Tobias is just, really tall, so I kind of exaggerated a bit there. But I am sixteen, petite, which usually isn't a problem, but I'm lacking boobitude, and curves that most of the girls in my grade flaunt to everyone.

It doesn't really bother me as much as it used to though. Being stared at for an hourglass figure must be uncomfortable, and I lack the confidence to handle it.

Out of instinct, I shoot my arm forward when I feel Tobias' hand grip my shoulder, jolting me out of my daydream. "Tris. Tris, we should go in."

He's right. And I was staring right at the damn parking lot, and didn't even notice it fill up until now. "Right. Let's go." Though my response may have come out nonchalant, I am far from it at the moment, and Tobias knows it.

I push open the door and so does he, us perfectly in sync as we both climb out, and slam the doors shut. I feel the stares to begin, coming from all directions.

In an effort to get this over with, we brisk walk over to the building that now is certain to be my doom, and I stare at Tobias, him back at me, us both trying to send a message to the other without speaking, but failing miserably, so we walk in, side by side.

Eventually we make it to the front entrance, I take in a deep breath, and we push open the doors.

Then it begins.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Hi. Did anyone read Four? I can't because since I'm not in America yet, every single bookstore I go to, either they don't have it since they sold out, or they don't even have it at all. Seriously, this is so annoying. On the bright side, my cousin gave me the URL to a website that plays Divergent for free, and Animal which I have to check out since (I'm a Gillian) Liz Gillies and Keke Palmer are in it. **

**I want to make something clear first, I've read a lot of stories where Tris and Four hate each other and then love each other, and it's always like the cheerleaders would throw themselves at Tobias, that's very unrealistic. Even if he was the sexiest man on earth (in my opinion he is), no one would be that desperate and I find it annoying that so many people write it like that. So I'm sorry if the reactions aren't exhilarating enough for you in this chapter.**

**This probably is the most cliché chapter I've ever written, especially the ending. I just want to hide under my bed and not know what you're thinking, I just somehow can't write happy/cheesy stories.**

**Get me to 335 reviews? ilysm!**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 25

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"It is well for the heart to be naive and the mind not to be."_

_-Anatole France_

* * *

I would melt into a puddle at any given moment if possible. The countless stares, and pointing I have received makes me want to run out of here and never look back. It shouldn't be this big of a deal, but nothing interesting goes on in their lives, so anything out of the usual is enough for them to grab and stretch.

Maybe they remember that we used to be best friends. Or maybe not. I really don't care. And that's my current mantra, I don't care. I don't care that everyone is looking at us. I don't care that they will soon start the rumors.

I am such a liar.

The small mercy I am given- Lauren is nowhere to be seen, I am thankful for. If she were to appear, I would have to run out of the hallway in terms of the restraining order, and that would give everyone something else to over exaggerate about. Her and her friends are most likely in the bathroom now, caking themselves with bronzer. I highly doubt anyone would let their children come to school looking like a prostitute, so they must spend an awful lot of time in the bathroom trying to look 'pleasing' but failing greatly. At the moment, I am everlastingly grateful for this, but the moment she does hear about this- I really don't want to imagine the possible scenarios.

Tobias follows behind me, as I walk over to my locker and I hiss, "Tobias, they're staring. Go away." I can't help but want it to go back to before when everyone ignored me. But I know that it's impossible, the current events of the morning could never be taken back. This might be a mistake, but I have to stand by my decision.

"Who cares?" He persists in tailing me, so I reach my locker, lucky me, it was a top one, a dark burgundy, newly painted. I put in my combination, and on the second attempt I pull it open, and stuff my afternoon binder in there. After slamming it shut, Tobias and I go over to his, and he does the same.

He carries confidence in his strides, intimidating everyone who dares to look at us for more than three seconds. His tall stature gives him an advantage, causing anyone that was once snickering to turn dead silent. I succeed in mimicing his behavior, but in my mind, I want to run down the halls into first period, burying my head in a textbook.

Nothing could go wrong, really. Except for a thousand things.

* * *

Yes, I understood what he meant when he walked to class with me, whenever we had periods together. But when he plopped down on the bench across from me in lunch, us both eating silently together, I was baffled.

I'll ask him about it after school today.

A few people call out his name, waving to him, but he ignores them, while I look at him, stunned. "You don't have to sit with me." My once appetizing sandwich, now tastes stale, and I chew slowly, not tasting anything. He doesn't have to trash his reputation for me, one that he worked on hard for.

"I want to." And those that's the only exchange we have for all throughout remain in silence, a bliss really. I'm not much for conversations and neither is he. This is not an awkward silence, but one that two people can share comfortably. It's nice.

* * *

"You're taking the bus?" Tobias asks incredulously, noticing how I am throwing everything into my locker at lightening speed. However, he failed to notice my earphones, and the fact that I was completely unaware of his presence until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Geez, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I snap, panting. No time to waste Tris, just turn around and walk to the back, and get on that bus.

"I'll drive you."

"No." I can't let him do that. This friendship was supposed to be a smooth transition, not one full of rough and haste changes. I will take the bus like I normally do, like I always do.

He has different plans. "Come on. I'm not above making you miss that bus." Now he's threatening me? I have no better options, so I tag along with him in surrender.

"You're staying after tomorrow, right? You're not going to ditch me again, are you?" Seriously, I want to know whether I need to be in the library or not at two thirty, and have to wait an hour for the late bus if he's a no-show. Over the past few weeks, it's been a game really, me trying to guess if he'll walk into the library or decide to leave me waiting, cursing in the back of head. The bus is my only transportation, I'd die before I ask my parents or brother to pick me up, so when ten minutes pass and he's not there, I'm left to my own devices for a whole hour until the stupid late bus arrives. It's very nerve racking.

"Yeah." He scratches the back of his head, "About that, I'm sorry I'd make you wait, it's just, sometimes I'm not in the mood to-"

"Oh, you think I was in the mood?" So he thinks he can just show up whenever he wants based on how he's feeling that day? Before I can demand an explanation, I don't get an answer, because he pulls me by my sweater's sleeve, and into an empty classroom where he locks the door and checks that everyone's left. I want to yell that he's being dramatic, no one would be waiting under a desk, somehow expecting us to reveal something, but he's paranoid, so I zip my mouth shut, watching him push various objects and chairs. Eventually, he settles, and I can only infer that something is up.

"That's not what I meant. Marcus doesn't always let me stay afterschool, alright? And he likes to make sure I miss the next day too when he's pissed."

Oh. That makes sense. I feel a little guilty now, for assuming that he was intentionally leaving me behind and waiting like that, it never occurred to me that maybe, he was genuinely trying to make it to the sessions. He was trying. I didn't see that.

Another question pops in my head and now seems like the appropriate time to voice it, "What about all those times you skipped class?"

An uneasy expression covers his face, as if I asked him something extremely personal. "Sometimes, I just need to get away." Not the response I expected, but then again, what answer would have been acceptable? I can't imagine what it's like for him, constantly surrounded by fake idiots, who assume he's some perfect, mysterious, hot tenth grader. At least I choose not to have friends, so that I don't have to pretend, and change myself for everyone. But my choice is not an option for him, because then it could lead to people finding out more than he'd like everyone to know.

School can be a weight on people's shoulders at times, constant peer pressure and pressure from society, I can't actually blame him for taking a breather, once in awhile disappearing from it all. I can only guess where he goes, to find relief.

We exit the classroom, out of the school, our footsteps echoing and shadows dancing on the walls. No, the school is not empty. But people stay after mostly for sports, so everywhere except the gym has been deserted. Different posters and pictures cover every inch, but I barely glance at them, just focusing on the boy in front of me. Why does life have to be so complicated? The buses must be long gone by now, so following Tobias is really my only option.

I sit in the passenger seat, and he starts his car, us leaving the school behind in dust. I relax for a bit, until I notice him take a wrong turn.

"Yeah, we're not going home just yet." I huff and lean back against my seat, arms crossed. Where could he possibly be taking me?

* * *

Apparantly, even after ten minutes of driving aimlessly, I still have no clue about our whereabouts. "So um. Can I ask you something?" He says feebly, not daring to take his eyes off the road.

"I think you already are." I am in no mood to answer any questions he could possibly spit out, with him paled a little. My bedroom is the only place on earth where I want to be at this ungodly hour, and now that we're at a significant distance from my house, my crankiness takes over.

"What's up with your brother?" Honestly, even if I wanted to talk about Caleb, I wouldn't know where to start. It all depends on how much Tobias knows. And another part of me refrains from thinking about my brother, is that there was something that we all could have done to prevent it, it wasn't inevitable.

"Like what do you want know?" I try to remain neutral, since this is all new territory for me. I learned something new about Caleb today, so it feels like I don't have a right to talk about him like that. Most likely because I don't know the whole story.

"Hypothetically speaking, let's say I didn't know where he went. Just that he disappeared."

This is going to take a while. "Um." Not one of my best beginnings. "Things have gotten bad. And seriously, only my parents know all the details. Like, two years ago, I noticed that he had things like pain relievers and sleeping pills, which all are prescription-meds. They weren't my parents's, and me being my stupid self, didn't think anything about it. Then Caleb started distancing himself from me- us," I don't include that it was about the time when Tobias broke off our friendship, because I'm trying to keep this a somber mood.

"I guess things kind of escalated, but I wasn't there for him, one of my biggest regrets. He- There were rumors going around, but I just ignored them. If I knew that it was the truth, maybe I could've helped him." Even though these past two years caused a strain on my and my brother's relationship, he was still, my brother no matter what. And it hurt that if we were more involved with each other, he might have had a brighter future.

"It doesn't sound like much when they found him selling this new study pill thing, but it was still illegal. And I'm pretty sure that it would continue until he started dealing gateway drugs, which I think is worse. So he got about a little less than five years behind bars, because he was still just sixteen, and I just can't stop but think why he would do something this stupid. He certainly didn't need the money, he has everything he needs. And he's- was super smart, taking advanced classes, why would he need a study pill?" Indeed, I never really wondered this deeply about the issue, just always accepted the fact that he was caught, and punished.

What if those condoms were tied to it? No, my brother's poor choice in not abstaining from sex has nothing to do with drug dealing, I reassure myself. But am I really telling myself the truth? Is there a chance he could be involved in something much worse?

This is a painful subject for all of my family including me, so Tobias doesn't push the subject when I shut my mouth. He wouldn't understand what it's like to live with someone their whole life and not see who they really are. Marcus revealed his true colors around Tobias, just not to the rest of the public eye. But Caleb, it was all a secret. He was so secretive, I didn't even bother getting past those walls he put up two years ago.

"Now it's your turn to tell me. How long you been on Prozac?"

He slams his foot on the brake, as we barely skid to a stop when the light flashes red. That bastard ahead of us was playing games, slow than speeding just in time to cross and cause us an 'almost accident'.

"About a year." A year? That is a very long time to be on anti-depressants. The light turns green, and we race by, passing all the other vehicles.

* * *

"How lovely, the scenery is so beautiful. I mean you can totally see the not- landscaping, and the not- sun," I deadpan when we pull up into an abandoned parking lot. Well, maybe it's not abandoned, but the deep cracks and yellowing signs tells me that it hasn't been taken care of, or used in a while.

"Remember how I said I used to camp out in my car? This is where I spend my nights, a lot of them." He widens the distance between his outstretched arms, gesturing to the shitty ass lot surrounding us. "Sometimes it's better than going home."

He lives here? In this dump? This is really that much better than his own home, one that he's lived in for all sixteen years of his life? I feel a leak in the barrier holding up my tears, and none of us acknowledge the one tear that manages to escape and fall freely down my right cheek.

I just, feel such guilt. This- this place defently doesn't look safe. I can only guess how many times they have tried to jump his car, how many drunks and dangerous people he has run into, at night sleeping here. And he takes that risk, because it's an improvement to his home condition.

And this whole time, I've been treating him like shit.

I didn't know the full extent- I still don't know- but now I've gotten a glimpse. It's just, a deep ache in my gut, wondering how he lives everyday. He deserves those anti-depressants. He needs them. No one can live like him and be happy, that would be impossible.

Tobias misunderstands my tears, "I'm sorry I can't take you anywhere nicer. I've been trying to save up the tips from my job-"

"You have a job?" He has a job? When he's been driving me everyday, spending gas, and took me to the mall, he's been paying for that all with his job?

"It's not much, but I get paid. That's what matters."

"Tobias, Tobias you can't live there. You can't live here. This is- it's not okay. Please, look at me. Why do you let this happen to you?" Oh shit, I said the last part out loud, that was supposed to be kept on the inside, something he would never hear.

He punches the wheel, and honks the horn, "Damn it Tris, it's not that easy." He doesn't even have to continue, I know exactly what he's thinking. I was stupid to believe that with his size, he could stop the abuse. He can't. Not against his father. No, not against a monster. Because in the end, everyone's afraid of monsters. And now as I watch him, his posture sags. He looks years younger. He looks years older.

I watch his lips while he continues, barely paying any attention to the word's tumbling gracefully out of his mouth. He's not even trying to plan out what he's going to say, just sputtering out sentences that carry more meaning and thought than anyone else's ever did. Without even trying, despite the bruises and rough patches, he's the closest thing to perfect. And even silently admitting that he's scared, he's brave, not like a kicked puppy. I can't imagine what he goes through, because it would take someone as strong as him. He's perfectly imperfect.

"Stay with me again. Tonight. Tomorrow. This sounds like cheesy bad writing, but please. Stay." Before I would have wanted to roll my eyes at how desperate I sound now, but I can't think of anything besides the fact that I need him. Marcus can't take him away from me. These past two years are an example of what has become of me without him, and I don't want to go like this for any longer. I want my best friend back.

"And then what? Your parents find out? My dad demands me to return home? That would put you in a very bad position-"

"You sure as hell didn't care about trashing your reputation today, why should I? You're my only friend. My best friend. And you shouldn't have to live like this, I can help you? So who fucking cares that people think that I'm a whore, and you're a bad influence. Things will only get worse if you go home, come with me!"

"Maybe it worked yesterday. Maybe it will today. But are you that naive Tris, asking me to sneak into your bedroom and avoid my dad for the next two years? I know you know better, so just leave it alone."

But I'm stupid. I always have been, "I don't want to leave it alone! What am I supposed to do when you don't show up to school for the next week? Do you know how scared I'll be, will you be dead or alive?"

"Nobody needs me. Everyone will be just fine without me."

"What about me? I need you!" I calm down and continue, "I can't believe we're arguing in an old parking lot." I manage to get him to crack a smile, the thick tension thinning for now.

"It's not that bad. Parking's free."

"Right. Free parking makes everything better." I can't concentrate on what I'm saying. He makes another joke, and I laugh along, but it doesn't sound forced, more like a genuine laugh. I don't even have to listen, just being with him, laughing, crying, smiling, yelling, it all comes naturally, effortless. I don't want to waste any of the time we have by rotting it with arguments, so we both sit back in our seats, and talk about nonsense from ducks to sandwiches. I've never been this comfortable with someone, my parents and brother were all too uptight. And any previous friendships I once had, I broke off because it just wasn't the same. It wasn't the same without Tobias. This is right, him and I. This is right.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Wow 324 reviews, thanks guys! I'm so sorry for not updating, because I just started ninth grade, which I predicted would be hell, and it is, highschool sucks. Now I have to worry about college (because society wants me to conform, and I don't want to, I can't be controlled. I'm divergent.) and this upcoming math fair I'm required to enter because I'm in Geometry Pre-IB. I also keep getting lost in my school, it's HUGE. Well it has to be, I mean 2500 kids is a lot.**

**If anyone checked out my profile, I want to say that it was a really creepy feeling when my location changed to where I went to this summer, when I didn't even change it myself, and auto-location-detection thingy is off. Like, I swear, I tried changing it back to the USA, but that was so weird.**

**QOTD(s): Anyways, how old are you guys? I'm turning fourteen in a few days, h****ow old did you guys think I was?**

**Get me to 350 reviews?**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 26

**Tris POV**

* * *

"_Don't underestimate your kids. Don't be condescending, because they're children but they're not stupid."_

_-Steve Carell_

* * *

With the clock ticking by- seconds gone, we try to enjoy every moment we have left together, before we have to face reality. But he can't stop it and neither can I- as quick as we came, the time passed by in a blur, and now he's driving back home, no. Not a home. Just a house. A house full of bad memories, discomfort, and not belonging.

I guess between the both of us, we've never really had a real home. I can only imagine what it's like for him- trapped behind the closed doors left to the echoes of screams bouncing off walls, and cleaning up dried blood.

Left, right, right, right, left. And we're here.

But it doesn't feel like we are. It could be the shock. Or the fact that I'm not ready to. But I am frozen in the passenger seat, my hands holding with a death grip onto the armrests, my eyes stuck positioned ahead of me, but not really staring.

"Tris. C'mon, you'll see me tomorrow." Normally I would sense not agitation in his tone, no. Something else, tiredness? It doesn't matter.

I feel like a little kid, one who refuses to do as told by their parents, selfish, and childish. And my act doesn't break as he demands then ultimately pleas, bargaining and eventually rattling off promises he knows that are uncertain, that he can't keep. But despite the ticking of his wrist watch, and the sputter of the car engine when he turns it off, I am glued to the seat, taking in everything, then nothing.

If I get up, he will leave. If he leaves, he'll go home. And if he goes home, I don't continue the thought, ending with a nervous gulp. The shadow of his father's expensive Aston Martin lies in his driveway, a reminder edging away at me, there might be screams tonight- muffled, by a pillow blocking his mouth, or even the wooden walls of the structure standing a few stone throws from my house.

"Tris. Tris. I'm going to carry you, if you don't move in the next five seconds." In the distance, he comes out as a faint warning, because I can't pay attention to anything but the fact that I can't let him go. Terror washes over me, as he gently lifts me up, swinging me across his shoulders, and I feel my cheeks warm as I think of the awkward position we are in. Or maybe it's not that.

Maybe it's something else.

His strong arms set me down, but my legs feel like jello, so before he can grab onto me, I sink to the patio floor, finally locking my gaze with his strong and affirming one. He really thinks that he's going to be alright, and maybe it would be true tonight. But what about the rest of the nights?

"Tris. You have to go home. Tris." His voice is smooth, not yelling, almost whispering- as if another soul could hear us, and it's so powerful rushing past into my ears and wrapping around my head, without actually interpreting the meaning.

I have to go home.

I have to go home.

It now sounds like a chant in my head, and I look up at him, partially dazed, my usual sharpness sanded off. It's not until I feel Tobias' arms wrap around my neck, and I fight off the state of sleepiness, enough to gather the strength to hug back.

Why did I hug him?

Not a single word is muttered in the moments we stay like this, embraced in each other, until he breaks off the peace by untangling our limbs, and same fear returning- ten times worse, because now he's actually going. He's going and I can't stop it.

But I'm stupid and I always have been, stupid, stupid. So when I recover seconds later from the feeling of him wrenching his arms away from my grip on his, waving a goodbye, and trailing back to his car, I run after him, pumping my legs faster, one in front of the other.

The last time I ran this fast was when I was trying to escape from him at his party.

But oh, how the tables have turned, because now I chase him, Tobias walking and huffing slightly all-knowing that I'm right behind him, and gaining on him. But he won't stop, and I can't run forever.

So I do something even stupider, so stupid, I wince at the thought, so I don't think. I just jump, on top of him, crushing him below me with my small weight, but enough to keep him planted on the ground beneath me

I stare at him, dead straight in his ocean blue eyes, mine speaking a hundred words per minute, communicating more than words ever could.

"Tris, you're fucking crazy." The way he says it, I'm not entirely sure if it's a good thing or not.

"I don't want you to go." That came out differently than what I meant to say, stay because I'm worried about you is what was supposed to leave my mouth, but not as different then what I was actually thinking. Which way will he interpret it?

"Tris." He pushes me off, though I already willingly stood up. I can't force him into anything, we both know it. "Go home."

I bite my lip to keep myself from saying something I would regret, because this could be the last time I see him for a period of time- days, a week even, if he's that damaged. This is my last chance with him, and it should be something happy, a happy occasion, to make the feeling last because I know I will play this over and over again in my memory. Yet it doesn't feel like it.

His eyes won't quite meet mine, and I already feel lost, like I wasn't standing on the mat placed before my front door. And Tobias not looking at me, isn't helping, finalizing the end of today and possibly the others in the week. How could one middle-aged man take it all away from me? How could a belt in his back hurt me in the most unimaginable ways? How could we even be connected?

And Tobias is wrong when he said no one is there for him, because in a sick kind of way, I am. Not physically, I didn't go through the feelings of slices on my skin. Not emotionally- cheering him up, which I never did because I don't know how to, or even why to. But really, when they said no one cared, he was a loner throughout the abuse, I was there for a while now, every strike on his body affecting me, cutting me, hurting me.

I miss when things were better, I miss the easier times. And now, no matter how much I want to go back to them, the consequences of the past two years are so strong, it would be impossible, to revert back.

So I remain in my exact location, watching him leave me behind and pull out of my driveway, and back into his own.

I stay here long after he's gone, countless hours going by.. The sun sets at some point, creating an eerie setting, windy and dark. The temperature drops, but I can't bring myself to move, trying to find some reassurance that he's okay.

But I can't dissipate the sick feeling in my gut.

* * *

I would be lying if I said last night was a restless one for me, because the guilt settled in my stomach the next morning when I woke up fresh after an eight hours of the advised amount of sleep, while God knows what Tobias is up to. Did he even sleep last night?

Getting ready was easy, but my parents knew something was up. Good. At least now they're paying attention to me, or at least for a while. Mom and Dad are stuck in that phase, Caleb still hasn't passed for them. I can only imagine their reactions if I informed them of my findings in his bedroom.

However, they know that they can't do anything about it, their lack of involvement in my everyday goings cannot be made up for by questioning me in the middle of nowhere, so Dad can only raise an eyebrow in suspicion, but they both know to keep their curiosity contained. Not like I'd tell them what's going on.

By seven I decide that I have nothing to lose, so I make my way over to the Eatons after mainly ignoring my parents and my brother's empty bedroom. With each step, the temptation to turn around and scurry away increases, but I can't back out like a coward.

When his footsteps get louder, I know either Marcus or Tobias is approaching the door, and it would be impossible to leave or hide now, so I must face the wrath and lies of his father if he is the one who answers the door.

But he doesn't. And I am ever so grateful.

Yet when I see the pain etched into Tobias' face as he flinches at every step- every movement, I know something happened last night. But it wouldn't be wise to ask while his father is around.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Don't bullshit me. Where are you hurt?" Before he can even make up excuses, I warn him against it- not wanting to deal with any of his pathetic attempts to ward me off from asking about his well-being. He knows it's not out of pity, but I guess it's still uncomfortable for him.

I guess my message goes through him loud and clear, but there is a slight hitch in his voice when he answers, "My back."

"Let's ditch. My parents are working today, just park a few blocks down, and we can sneak back into my house." I start spitting out ideas, not going to school, staying at my house the entire day, it would be far better than a chance of exposure in public. At least if we skip school, it would be a much-needed day of relaxation, instead of pushing himself at school, harsh on his body.

"I don't think you realize how many times we'd need to skip for every time I ended up like this."

A scowl replaces my frown and I retort, "Well since when did you care about school? You think you're helping yourself by pushing your body too far?"

"Tris. Let's just forget about this." Only now does it sink in,_ I don't think you realize how many times we'd need to skip for every time I ended up like this. _Tobias must be an exceptional actor, because obviously he's been covering up the bruises and pain for a long time, and it won't be stopping any time soon. And how is it that no one ever suspected anything, not even I, until I saw proof?

But I don't want to spend time wondering on how long his father had been using his son as a punching bag, I don't want those dark and depressing thoughts clogging up my brain anymore. Maybe I should take his advice, and try to be happy.

Impossible.

Especially when we walk to my locker, and inside it, all my books and shelves and decorations are ripped to shreds, and destroyed. Immediately, I know who did this, but I never thought she would go this low, to vandalize my locker. And to glue my boxes of pads and tampons on the inside, to be broadcasted to everyone.

I am fuming with rage and embarrassment, as everyone laughs at me, Lauren smirking in the distance. I expected something, anything. But not for her to actually sink to that level.

An eye for an eye, is the sole belief I am relying on at the moment, and is my only alibi as I break into a run, and tackle Lauren to the ground, violating the restraining order.

Or at least, I would've, if Tobias hadn't held me back. "Tris. Don't."

"Let go of me." But he does the very opposite, instead dragging me into homeroom. And I swear, I wanted to die at that moment, still not able to understand how bitchy a person could be.

We notify our homeroom teacher for attendance, but Tobias leads me to the Principle's Office, me confused on how I feel about that. Honestly, this would probably be the best way to resolve it, because there's no way I can get revenge without messing with legalities, so I stomp angrily behind Tobias, only half-putting up a fight.

I know this isn't all Lauren can do, but I pray to God it's the only thing. For once.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Wow, you guys must hate me, only 4 reviews?! I get that it's my fault for not updating, but high school sucks and I'm stuck doing shitty assignments. But really, only four reviews? I'm not feeling very motivated, and do you guys even like this story anymore? I've gotten a complaint that this reader is starting to hate it- that I'm repeating the same material. Mood: Pissed.**

**I don't know about your schools, but in mine, we have these things called SmartBoards, also we started taking a foreign language in 6th grade so now I'm taking French III in 9th grade, and my homeroom is combined with our first period, I also have 4th period lunch which is like 10am (it sucks). Lastly, I live in New York, so we have these end-of-the-year tests called Regents that get sent to colleges and whatever, and they're like super important. Let's just say that I'm a huge nerd, and got a 96 on the Algebra1 and a 97 on the Earth Science one last year. Pat on the back, good job self! That's all.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Chapter 27**

**Tris POV**

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_"Let the guilt teach you how to behave next time." _

_\- Insurgent, Veronica Roth_

* * *

Basically, Lauren gets off the hook, because apparently the school can't punish anyone without any proof. Storming out of the principle's office in a huff, I remember the conversation I had with Tobias after walking back to homeroom- my pounding feet producing echoes that annoyed the shit out of him.

"You think I have to pretend to be vulnerable?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do." I eye him warily, here wouldn't be a very good place to settle this- which most likely involves raised voices and threads of curses tossed at him. "You're going to want to march into class and show everyone they had no affect on you," he adds, "and keep your head down."

I look away. He is silent and still for so long that eventually, I have to say something. "What is it?"

"I don't want to say this," he says, "but I feel like I have is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand?" His straight eyebrows are drawn low over his eyes. My stomach writhes, partly because I know he makes a good point but I don't want to admit it, and partly because I want something I don't know how to express; I want to press against te space between us until it disappears. I nod. "But please,when you see an opportunity..." He pesses his hand to my cheek,cold and strong, and tilts my head up so I have to look at him. His eyes glint. They look almost predatory. "Ruin them."

Countless stares pore into my skin, digging holes into it, and much to my disgust and their musing, I train my eyes on the floor, and quietly pad over to my assigned seat. The teacher looks at me for a second longer- then turns back to the SmartBoard to continue the lesson.

All throughout Spanish IV, I sink in my chair, chin resting in my left palm, my eyes glued to Tobias's figure. I can't tell why or what exactly I want, but it doesn't help that I'm all the way in the back of the classroom, and him in the front, posture straight and his eyes alive and alert. Foreign language was always his thing, and I agreed to take Spanish with him.

This is one of the only classes we have together, since world languages are the only non-honor classes, and the rest I'm in are all AP, while he's normal. Well, falling behind.

Oh, right. Today's Tuesday, we're staying after school together. And something in my heart inflates and swells, a bubble of happiness overcomes me, with no explanation. I don't know, but lately whenever or whatever involves Tobias, puts a little skip in my step, and I hate everything a little less.

Strange.

And before I can control it, my chin slips off my hand and smashes into the binder ring, and I bite my lip to conceal a yell. The teacher's monotone voice wavers, with little success of capturing my attention for todays lesson, and I block her out, switching my glance from the clock to the boy with the deep blue eyes more times than I'd like to admit.

I've been noticing little things about him, how his eyes are a beautiful, dark blue, often pulling me into them.

What the hell am I thinking?

This has become a problem for me, drifting off in thought about Tobias when he supposedly is in the same room as me, and remaining in my mind to reemerge countless times, that I lose concentration on all my surroundings. It is a constant nuisance mostly since being near him isn't enough for me. But it'll have to do since I can't sit next to him.

A few theories come to mind but I dismiss them. I just am feeling attached because tomorrow isn't certain. That's all. Right?

* * *

And exactly one week later, 4th period lunch swings around, and I silently count how many seconds go by until I feel the table move a bit, and see him sitting across from me, same as yesterday, the day before, and all of this week and last week.

Without even acknowledging his presence, I continue to focus on my lunch before me, but inside his every move is accounted for. My feet kick a little, trying to get my mind off of him, to think about anything else. It's not working.

When did it become impossible for me to rid myself of him? This doesn't make any sense, and it frustrates me how he's always on my mind, no matter what. Just looking at him is enough to send a flutter through me, a rush of emotions all at once.

This is worsening by the minute, and I can't handle it, so I start to hum- and drum my fingers on the table. I will not look at him, I refuse to look at him.

I look at him.

"You happy now?" I blurt out, all riled up in annoyance. But then I realize how awkward confessing that he's been plaguing my thoughts out loud would be, so I cock my head to the floor, and bend down to pick up an imaginary pencil I suddenly dropped.

Whatever's going on with me, needs to be put at an end, but I don't know how- or even what's happening.

Instead of trying to fight it, I submit and stare at him out in the open without sneaking any glances, but studying him. Today, he's wearing all black, but a baggy sweatshirt covers his torso, for reasons I can guess.

His hair surrounds his head in a halo, without much effort put into it, and I see his Adam apple bobbing until I am cut out of my thoughts, "Tris, Tris? Lunch's over. Uh, Tris?"

"Right, right, um, see you, I guess, later?" Smooth, ever since this "problem", I haven't been able to have a single conversation with him that doesn't involve me stumbling over my words, or getting lost in watching him. I desperately want things to return to normal- or wherever the hell we stood right after that day he stayed over, because my patience is running thin, and nothing is helping.

I push my way through the freshmen, sophomore, juniors, and seniors, and run to class- as if running away from this looming problem, that I know deep down is only just the beginning.

I just got him back, I hope that whatever it is, doesn't make me lose him.

* * *

"We've got about ten minutes, what do you want to do?" The library's cool temperature was actually serving it's purpose for once instead of sending us to a freezing hell, it guarded us from the warm, June air from outside. Regents are in about a week, but these tutoring sessions and after-school extra review classes offered by the school are enough, well, enough for Tobias. He won't have to worry about scoring high, unlike me.

I want to ace it.

"There isn't really much we can do in a school library." He states a matter-of-factly, as if this is confinement to him. Let's just say, that we don't share the same interest in reading. I can't believe this is the last after-school tutoring session we have together, because after this, next week are the Regents, and that's all. The end of sophomore year, just went by in a whoosh.

I remember just a few months ago, I was yelling at this boy perched up against his seat, and how much I was under the pretense of hating him. And now, it's turned around so much. I shiver slightly at the unpleasant memories, never again wanting to relive them. Maybe junior year will be better? Yes, I can feel a smile working its way unto my face. Not just an improvement at my life in school, but I've been clean for a while now. That day at his house may have been the last I ever wield a razor.

"Your dad's not home today, right? We could, I don't know. Do something?" Business trips tend to last days at a time, and this time, it was a conference in Seattle, an airplane's trip away, so that means that Tobais has the house to himself for at least three more days.

"Like what? Rape the house?" He scowls at me, as if scolding me for suggesting that. He immediately softens after seeing my puzzled look, translating into "what the hell is your problem?" My smile immediately slips off my face.

And plus, he could've been less descriptive, obviously.

"Alright, then goodbye!" I shout, slightly hurt at his agitation towards me, but not so to communicate any anger. I just don't want him following me, because I'm planning to take the bus now and I can make it if I just rush past him-

"Tris, I'll drive you home." Not again, I can't let him do that. Rotating my body around one-hundred-eighty degrees, I stare somewhere south of his mouth, just noticing it before.

But oh, how I want him to.

Wait, what?

"Seriously, there's nothing to do here, let's leave early." Mrs. Reyes checked in a while ago, so I know today has been counted for, and it's done now, they extra CSIP and credits have been added up. But Tobias gently tugs on my forearm, his soft, deft fingers sending shivers up my spine. Saying 'no' would put a gap between us- an unnecessary one, and I can't afford to do that.

And, I want to be as close as possible to him, spend as much time with him.

* * *

We exit the building, and I stare at the ground as I pick up the pace to match his, his long legs makes it easier for him to take large strides. My left shoelace is untied, and my jeans hug my ankles, a stark contrast against the slutty short-shorts worn by almost every other girl at the school.

The car ride is silent, and I don't know what to make of it, usually filled with comfort and feeling invited, this time like a knife digging into my skin or frostbite chilling at my bones.

Ten minutes later, he puts the car into reverse and backs into his driveway. Right next to a freshly polished and waxed Aston Martin.

What a surprise?

Marcus.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 28

**Tris POV**

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_"My husband and I have known each other since kindergarten. I had a crush on him in school, but we never dated. Then we saw each other again after high school, and _

_there was something instantly familiar about him. I'm a very shy person and was very closed off. But he allowed me to be myself. And there's a safety in that."_

_-Allison Sweeny_

* * *

Tobias's family has always been better off, that couldn't be truer now as Marcus's Aston Martin sits in his driveway gleaming and bouncing the sun's rays off of it, rendering me temporarily blind. I throw my hand in front of me to shield my face, today is an exceptionally sunny day.

I could've swore that the sight of this obnoxious car made the color rush out of Tobias. This time, he craned his neck towards me, "Tris, I think you should go home now."

Usually, I would put up a fight, but judging by the slight ruffle of the curtain from inside his home, Marcus must be watching. And me being here is only making the situation worse.

I obediently sit upright, and push open the car door, and get out, then instinctively dusting off my pants. Tobias then stands up too, and I turn around in a mid-wave, and he watches as I start to walk back across the street. He locks his car, but I don't turn around as much as I want to. It would only hurt him, this is the best way.

But is it really? Watching him go, fully aware of the fact of what goes on in private, and not doing anything about it. Quietly, I unlock the door, and shut it softly behind me, padding my footsteps across the floor, up the stairs, and into the solitude of my bedroom. Despite today's warm weather, I am gloomy in stark contrast.

His father must know that Tobias can't miss any school- the end of the year is approaching, and so is crunch-time for studying for the regents, are too. But he is not careless, he knows. So what will he do?

I am terrified of not knowing.

But I am also terrified of my lingering attachment, of what all this means. I've noticed, how Tobias's presence soothes me, or how he's constantly on my mind. How the littlest things about him intrigue me.

* * *

"Beatrice. Can I drive you to school today?" I grit my teeth in annoyance, and drag them out across my tongue, hot flashes of pain. My mother stands before me, acting calm, but I know better. Her fingers are clasped together, and it makes her seem older.

I want to say no, the answer is on the tip of my tongue. No, I do not want her driving me, forsay out of pity, or to make up for the lack of her mothering. But her tone suggests otherwise, so I follow her out and climb into the passenger seat.

Whatever anger was present in me before, diminishes, because she doesn't try to make idle chit chat, and I lean against the armrest, and stare out the window, at everything and nothing. If you paid me a million dollars, I couldn't direct you to my school, even after going there for two years. Street directions have never been my thing.

One week ago, was the last tutoring session for me and Tobias, and I can't help but feel something deflate in me. Yesterday, finals week started, and my schedule has been a mix of differing times and an array of late buses. Today, I get home at eleven o'clock, or twelve, depending on how early I finish the exam.

I wonder how Tobias is doing. Let's say, I was relieved and a bit shocked, when he arrived at school last Wednesday morning, not in pain of any sort or dragging his feet around. But then again, there has to be days of escape. Since then, I intended to use the bus, because only then did I realize how ridiculous the situation is.

That's a lie. But it's one I keep telling myself. It's the end of the year, and then summer will swing around, and things will go back to normal once I gain a sense of, well, my normality around Tobias.

I practically kick myself in the shin, when I realize I've been sitting in the car for thirty seconds, unaware of the fact that we pulled up to the school already. My mom snaps her fingers, and I mutter a goodbye, and walk out.

Again, for what seems like the millionth time, I zoned-out thinking about my best friend.

This worries me. I am supposed to be going over today's events, the notes I was studying last night, remembering snippets from the lessons or advice from teachers. Not about some boy, who can't seem to get out of my thoughts.

* * *

"Hey, Tris! Wait, Tris!" Tobias speeds-walks towards me. Great, this is not helping at all. I eventually give up when I see his casually walking up to me, his cologne engulfing me. This is hopeless, and I toss my study guide back into the abyss of my backpack, and return to see him standing a foot away from me.

What would happen if I squeezed in tighter, to maybe, half a foot?

He stands there awkwardly, "You shouldn't worry. You'll do fine." He clears his throat, and I flash him a reassuring smile. The hallways are deserted, everyone has gotten to class, so we are the only ones standing here. In the back of my mind is a ticking, a reminder of how little time I have left to run to homeroom, for attendance, but my legs are firmly planted to the ground, and my eyes engaged in an inviting staring-contest with his.

I am quickly pulled out of my trance at the sound of the bathroom door being pulled open, the handle hitting against the tile. Girls file out, most likely in there to fix their makeup.

Of course, Lauren is amongst them.

They walk past us, Lauren slamming her shoulder into mine and I push her back, and throw her onto the floor. "Whoops. Watch where you're going." Pure hatred is written across her face, but she picks herself up and storms off.

"Do you know how incredibly stupid that was?" Oh right, the restraining order. I bite the inside of my cheek, and am grateful she had the decency to walk away. Tobias looks down on me, but not in a demeaning way.

In a...different way.

* * *

"Was it really that hard?" He solemnly nods his head, and I burst out into laughter. Only now, is it so obvious why he needed me to tutor him. Instinctively, we walk to the library, and enter, the usual librarian leaving her book to point her nose at us, out of curiousity. She doesn't bother shushing us, no one is here, everyone left home after the exam.

Except us.

We're not supposed to be here, last week was the final session. But neither of us want to go home, or need to.

I set my belongings on a table near the entrance, and he does the same. The coolness is inviting, the opposite of my warm testing room in which I was trapped in for two hours. I stretch out my arms, trying to air out all the sweat I accumulated today.

Without turning around, I can feel the stare of the librarians beady eyes on the back of my neck, and I feel constricted to go somewhere more reserved. The back sci-fi section has shelves lining the wall, blocking her intervening gaze. What does she think we're going to do? Lift the place?

Tobias probably wasn't suspecting it, when I dropped to the floor in a huff, and lied down with my face pointing up to the ceiling. I am exhausted, and have no problem expressing it. He only raises an eyebrow, and sits a few inches away from me, huddling his legs with his arms wrapped around them.

Talking is useless now, so we stay here, appreciating the temporary comfort.

* * *

"I'm not going to school tomorrow." That's the first thing that pops out of his mouth, and I couldn't agree more. The exams are over, and all that's left is the awards ceremony for the seniors, which I normally skip out on.

"Then what do you want to do?" My parents are out tomorrow afternoon, and the next two days after, something about going to Santa Barbara to spend time together. I'm ecstatic that I'll have the house all to myself.

"Do you want to go to the beach?" I literally face-palm when he says that. That seems great, since it's practically boiling out, but he must know better.

"Hell no." There are so many reasons why I am against it, so many that he should know, as if he chose now to forget them. I will never ever wear a bathing suit, unless he can find me a surfsuit in the next twenty four hours. Next, I do not want sunburns, because unlike him, my skin is paler than a ghosts'. Third, beaches are just downright annoying.

Well, I don't like the outdoors anyhow, so I don't see what difference it'll make.

"Let's just stay at my house. It's...housey?" No adjective seems right, besides my bedroom, my house isn't ideal, for me. It's cozy to an outsider, but living there for over a decade, I know just how false that is.

"So what's for today?" It's barely noon, so he's right. I shrug my shoulders, and we pull out of the school parking lot, onto the main street.

We drive around for the rest of the day.

* * *

Two weeks since the last official day of school, nothing but laziness has surrounded us. I chew on the bottom of my lip as I try to recap on our past accomplishments in this time, and the results are scary.

Halfway into the movie marathon, Tobias saunters out of the room, and I sigh in knowing this isn't going well. Despite how laid back it has been, we can't do this all summer. But I have no other suggestions in my mind, so I lie back into the cushiony couch, comfortable against the faint smell of Tobias' cologne.

Though my resting position may seem at ease, my mind isn't, trying to understand my current dilemma.

At the slightest touch or caresses, goose bumps raise on my arms, and I feel my heart beat significantly louder, and at this point, I'm well aware of why Tobias makes me feel this way.

My whole life has been a miss, failed attempts, repetitive mistakes. The nightmare of my untamed feelings for my best friend have dawned on me a premonition, one that ends badly. If I want to continue to rekindle our old friendship, I must find a way to ignore them. Besides, I am one hundred percent sure these feelings of want are one-sided, not at all replicated.

Tobias, though no longer to my knowledge, was a player. He always was, and I don't know if it will ever change. He seeks love in all the wrong places, or maybe I'm not looking at all. The countless girls similar to Lauren, were simply phases, and Lauren lasting the longest. But even then, cheating would always come into play, both her and Tobias.

He wants the rush, a pretty girl who will mean nothing to him after he gets bored of her. He is way out of my league, and even if the likeness was mutual, I would never want to be cast aside when he got tired, and ruin our already tense relationship.

The Sorcerer's Stone is playing in the background, and under normal circumstances I would be tuned in, but I am concentrating on the low footsteps coming from down the hall. This movie marathon isn't going anywhere, and my legs are stiff.

As I walk by his hallway, lacking any ornaments marking the presence of a family such as family portraits or simple pictures, I hear Tobias shuffling in the formal living room. His face is flushed, and he appears to be very uncomfortable.

"This is bad, this is very bad."

"What?"

He pauses, and reddens even more, "We're out of toilet power." Well no wonder he's embarrassed, though I don't see how this pertains to me. Unless, he wants me to get some.

I don't think he knows. I decide to play along,

"So what should I do?"

He jangles his car keys in front of me, and it suddenly dawns on me of how awkward all of this is, and how even more it will be when I explain the "problem" associated with his solution. Here goes nothing, "I don't have a license." I state warily.

Tobias throws his head back in a laugh, howling, and regains his composure, "How do you not have one?"

I purse my lips and attempt to stop myself from laughing along at my own demise, "I failed my driver's test seven and a half times."

His chuckles are more short-burst, and he calms down enough to ask, "A half? Who knew I was better at something than you?"

"Ha ha. High-larious. As for the seven and a half, I didn't get past the written portion on one. The DMV would be stupid to give me a license." It's not like I would gain anything from lying about my failure on the road.

A few seconds pass, and I just now realize how little space there is between us, and how his mint breath hits me every time he speaks, breaks of cool on my skin, buzzing with electricity. The laughing ceases for a moment, and I stand across Tobias, a genuine smile glued to my face.

Miraculously, the space between us closes, and I don't remember what we were doing, or what we were talking about. My socks are gently touching his socks toes', our chests less than three inches apart, and I can feel the warmth of him spreading onto me as Tobias stares into my eyes, my smile still plastered to my face. I feel his gaze leave mine, to a mere three inches south towards my lip, and there is a tug in mine as I see him lean in even closer.

He's going to kiss me.

An internal conflict arises in me as he wraps his arms around my lower back, encasing me in a hug pulling me even closer, and tilting his head to the side. I don't follow suite. I don't close my eyes, I don't wrap my arms around him, I stand completely still.

In utter shock. This isn't supposed to happen. I have a crush on him.

He has a crush on me?

No matter how much I want to kiss him, for Tobias to be my first kiss, I can't, and it's not right for me. He will be devastated, but I have to stop this before it happens, before it's too late. I clear my throat in a noticeable, "Ahem." I give him a sideways smile, obviously fake, and he has the look of hurt imprinted in his eyes. I hurt him by rejecting him, but it had to be done.

At this point, it doesn't matter if our feelings for each other are shared, it doesn't change the fact that there is a large chance of me becoming a rebound.

I don't want to be brushed aside, I just got my best friend back. This is the only option.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: This chapter sucks. I was planning on updating earlier but I went on a surprise vacation to Kuwait, and I got help up with numerous projects in school, and so I decided to make this chapter longer than usual to make it up to you guys. Thanks for sticking with the story, I know I haven't been fair to you all.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 29

**Tris POV**

* * *

"_We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another." _

_-Veronica Roth, Divergent_

* * *

The rest of the day went by in continuing the movie marathon, with both our eyes glued to the TV. He sat on one couch, and I on the other- as far away as possible. Eventually we said an awkward bye, and now I lay on my bed, my head hanging off as I stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars I stuck onto my ceiling years ago.

I didn't see him the next day.

And the day after.

Two and a half weeks later, and my daily routine has gone back to before Tobias came back into my life. Lonely, countless hours filled up with rereading the same books that once gave me joy, now are bitter and borderline tasteless. The soulless black nail polish which once gleamed in the light is chipping off, just like everything else in my life. My parents see me every now and then, and I don't have any energy to try to make amends with them, everything seems to be too tiring.

My brain is only stuck on one point.

Songs drown out the uncomfortable quietness, but the lyrics don't mean anything, entering one ear and exiting the other. I've never experienced this feeling, but I'm not naïve enough to believe it will not pass.

Heartbreak. What almost every girl goes through in their lifetime. But nothing seems to excite me, or get me motivated, I get up, eat, shower, but that's all. I don't know how to cope with something as delicate as this situation, Tobias and I were barely friends, but it was better than the loneliness of these bare walls that used to mock me, and mock me once again.

Conversations formulate in my head, explanations and ways to hide our feelings, but it's useless, only managing in decreasing the stability of my mental health.

I am fully aware that Tobias will stop at nowhere to get me, that's his nature. He gets whatever he wants, he basically has girls lining up for him. And that's the problem. No matter what, Lauren is his ex, and he's not over her just like she's not over him.

They lasted most of the school year despite the numerous amount of times both cheated, and that's saying something. Being a rebound is nowhere on my bucket list, and I do not intend on bending over backward to provide temporary comfort for Tobias, literally, and physically. Understandably, he must be extremely hurt, but I am entitled to reject him, and anyone else who I feel to.

It is now mid-July, and I still haven't gotten my shit together. That's basically the story of my life.

That's all.

* * *

Rain pours in buckets, and I walk outside with my too-tight navy blue raincoat, the water running off it's slick surface. My mom used her suggestive tone on me, and who was I too say no? The mailbox is just across my driveway, the left compartment with PRIOR inscripted in the ugly brown metallic panel. I jam the wrong key in the lock, and stand outside our mailbox switching between keys.

Eventually a circular brass key clicks into place, and I see a cardboard box, stamped with EATON on it. I puff out a breath in a sigh, and slam the panel shut locking it into place. How coincidental.

My boots make a squishing sound as I walk up to Tobias' dry porch, and heavily pound on the door. I act especially immature, and keep my hood on shielding my face. Tobias takes his sweet time, and slowly opens his door, letting out a low but not unnoticed sigh.

"Hi." I say dryly, and extend my arm to hand him the package, and I feel his strong yet deft fingers make contact with mine as I transfer the weight of the box into his hands.

"Are you doing anything?" He asks scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. I can't lie, he knows I have nothing interesting to take on without him, so I shake my head slightly, enough for him to see. The height difference comes to mind, and I must look even more childish than usual. I rub my galoshes on his welcome mat, and part my hair after taking off hood, for him to see my face.

Tobias also knows I am not clueless and he obviously wants to talk about the events of last month, and he makes a wide arm-gesture leading into esteemed home. I show myself in, stripping myself of the uncomfortable raincoat, and boots. The sounds of him following me including the smack of his laces indicate me to go forward, and I jump onto my favorite red plush sofa set.

"I've missed you." I bite the inside of my lip, what way does he mean that in? It's so, uncalled for, but saying it back would be too easy, but then again, shouldn't I just say it back and get it over with? Those few words don't have to have a romantic meaning. But for now, I can't give him what he wants if it will make me uncomfortable. Aloof- that's the only angle I can play by now.

"Kay." I shrug my shoulders, and look at him in false indifference. I will never be the first to talk, about something like my feelings. After knowing me for so long, so accustomed to my aloof behavior, he begins to explain himself.

"I like you. A lot. And...you didn't stop me until the last minute, that counts for something. I know you like me too. So why won't you let me kiss you?"

Not to mention, Tobias is used to my jumping anxiety and scattered answers in distress, "You also really liked Lauren. And Nita. And Ruth. And Melanie. I'm just being honest."

"Tris just-" He never gets to complete that sentence.

"No. Don't even. I like you, alright? But we, we are at a very dangerous standing point," I clench my teeth and spit back, "We are barely friends Tobias! We worked so hard to recover our friendship, and you just throw it away like that! I like you, but I can't trust you, and I do not want to be a rebound. So stop being so self-centered, I can do what I want!" At this point I am standing, and I stare back with fury in my eyes.

"How dare you drive me to this point, I thought 'we' were getting better! Would it kill you to think about something besides yourself for once? This is fucked up. I-I"

"Tris. I am trying, can't you see that? It's not exactly the easiest thing for a person to change their mindset to empathize with someone they once hated-"

I cut him off, "Oh, oh now-"

"Let me finish," he says sounding feminine with that exact phrase. He stands still for a few seconds, with a look of unease on his face, then mutters, "I forgot what I was saying." And the ways he says it, with a genuine worried expression and frown on his face, makes me crack up. And he lets out a laugh too.

I don't even know how, but we end up on the couches, still sitting on opposite ends of the room, but staring at each other. Knowing he won't let go of the topic, it makes me want to leave. But this needs to be resolved.

"So you do like me?" Was he so oblivious to this before? The way my heart fluttered when I was around him, or how I was acting so much more strangely, or at least, stranger than usual. Even I knew at some point, that I liked him. Tobias wasn't kidding when he said his head was dense.

"Isn't that obvious?" I snap back.

He makes a wide gesture in the air, and yells while smiling, "She likes me! Tris Prior likes me!"

Not the reaction I was planning for, so I ask him the only suitable question, "Are you high or something? What'd you snort man?" He's acting like he's stoned, it's frightening.

"You like me! Who thought the day would come, when you would actually like me back."

"Dude, what the actual fuck are you on?" I'm getting slightly annoyed now, he shouldn't be making such a big deal about this. Yes, I like him. Either way, he's still a loser and he can't have me.

"I think you're afraid, Tris. Afraid of a relationship, or of liking someone." I'm plenty scared, but admitting that would be cowardly, and already stating the truth. I do nothing, but lower my gaze to my feet. My previous outbursts cease, and I can only be submissive to the truth. I am afraid. But I have a right to be.

And it's stupid. But a reason, nonetheless.

* * *

"Here you go." Tobias says, handing me an orange flavored popsicle stick. He knows I would not refuse it, anything orange flavored is my favorite. He himself sits down and places a napkin in his lap, to prevent the purple ice from dripping onto his pants.

I begin to lick and receive a major brain freeze after biting into the ice. The analog clock in the wall opposite me reads four pm, and I rack my brain to think of how could so much time have passed when it only feels like five minutes ago I was sulking alone in my bedroom.

"Do you want to go somewhere? It's summer and we're already a whole month into our vacation, and I know that between the two of us, we haven't actually done anything. So do you?" He blurts out unexpectedly.

A smile spreads to my cheeks, "Hmm, but where would we go?" We can't exactly just leave to somewhere faraway by airplane, it has to be somewhere in the state. Wait a minute, when did I even agree to this. More importantly, what makes me think that our parents won't stop us? But the idea seems so innocent and so close in reach, I do want to go somewhere, without my parents holding my hands. I want to travel with someone who I know I will have fun with, and can relate to.

"Uh, I was thinking maybe Galena, Illinois?"

I almost spit out the chunk of ice I bit off, "Galena? Are you kidding me? That's almost two-hundred miles away from here!"

"I went there before, and it only took three hours. And it's the very opposite of mainstream- it's a beautiful town, seriously." The more he talks and babbles, I lose him and my focus, as I think it over. Three hours, what measures would our parents go to retrieve us? Would they even allow it? The idea seems to good to be true, but I'm so fucking tired of not having things go my way. For once, could I be happy? Do something I want?

And what about Tobias? He needs time to get away from the house of bad memories, I can see it now, us enjoying the road trip, occasionally stopping for directions and pictures. It would be amazing.

"Tris. What do you say? Yes, or no?" Such a simple question, yet I can't turn my head around it for some reason. There are so many obstacles, and problems I see with it, but why not? Why the hell not?

"Yes." I say, eagerly shaking my head. Who cares about the parents? If they aren't happy, what can they do? Send me to my room? I'll happily oblige. No, this is my only chance, and I will take it.

* * *

_"Beep...Beep...Beep..." _

My phone screeches, and I reach over to my night stand to shut off the alarm I programmed the night before. This is it, it's now or never. Since Marcus isn't home, I'll have to be discrete as possible and dress myself, and haul my backpack full of necessities over to Tobias' house, so we can get a few hours head start.

Just as planned, the view from out my window beholds a pitch black sky- only four in the morning. I fill with giddy, imaging how great it feels to be running away- even only if it is temporary.

The grin plastered on my face won't come off no matter what, and I stop fighting it. I should be happy, and I will be. I can be.

Once I pull over a black tanktop, a black Roxy sweatshirt, and black Nike sweatpants, I tie my Fila sneakers, and pull my hair into a high ponytail. Being the paranoid person that I am, I observe the contents of my pack, going over the mental checklist in my head.

Four pairs of shirts, same for pants, jeans, sweats, extra pair of sneakers, two extra jackets, five pairs of underwear, two bras, a pack of Always pads, minimal makeup, hair ties, tooth brush, tooth paste, floss, lotion, tissues, socks, pajamas, sunglasses, watch, rain jacket, medicine, sunscreen, sanitizer, pillow, a book, travel size shampoos, conditioners, soap, body wash, deodorant, wax strips...oh my gosh, I'm more than ready. It's the paranoia that won't let me pack the right amount, instead I go overboard with packing, convinced that I will need all of it.

Shoot, thank goodness I remembered! I unplug my phone charger and wrap the cord around my finger, and scrunch into my pack along with my headphones, and extension cord. Perhaps I will need it?

I slide my phone into my frontal pants pocket, and zip it up to conceal it, though the huge bulge gives it away.

After I'm sure all my toiletries, clothing, first aid, and etc are packed, I strap on my shoulder a messenger bag containing my passport, debit card, wallet, personal ID, hotel reservations, journal, and a spare book to read. Not that I would need a passport, but just to be safe.

Minutes later of pacing around my room aimlessly in paranoia, I decide to sit down for a minute to calm myself. I'm fine. I'm just going away for perhaps a week, and will not be telling my parents. I'm travelling with a teenage boy to some destination almost two-hundred miles away from my current location. Everything's fine.

Oh who am I kidding?

I swing off my bed taking one last look around, and tiptoe out of my bedroom, shutting the wooden door with it's paint chipping off gently behind me. My backpack weighs a ton, and I hold in my huffs, as I pad down the staircase as quietly as I can, with a practiced eye to avoid the loud spots that tend to creak loudly. The moment I reach the bottom, I bolt out of the hall at full speed, and swing open the main door, then lock it behind me.

_"Front door- open."_

The monotone voice programmed by my house's security system says. Shit, I forgot about that.

I pray to God that my parents did not hear it, and that it went unnoticed. Too bad I won't stick long enough to find out. I let out a sigh I was previously holding in, and walk with a bounce in each step to my best friend's house.

This is it. I'm finally doing it. I just need to be brave.


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: It's been like forever since I've updated. School's been crazy. Not to mention I've been studying for the SAT Subject Test. But hey, in June I'm finally free from the madness and update this story.**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Chapter 30

**Tris POV**

* * *

_"Where you grew up becomes a big part of who you are for the rest of your life. You can't run away from that. Well, sometimes the running away from it is what makes you who you are." _

_-Helen Mirren_

* * *

"Hey." I nod my head in greeting, and he ushers me in quickly, pressing the door behind us. All the telltale signs are there, every house on the block is pitch black and in silence, further proving all our neighbors are deep in sleep. The only two awake are Tobias and I.

Speaking of Tobias, the lack of a baggage at Tobias' feet leads me to assume he's got his packed in his trunk already, and he was just waiting for my arrival. My stomach feels heavy just thinking about all the ways of how this could go wrong. Once we make sure no one is watching out of sheer paranoia, we grab a few granola bars, two jumbo Aquafina water bottles, pre-packed sandwiches, burgers, and anything else that could contribute to a meal on the road, and chuck it into a grocery bag. It helps to spend as little money as possible, which includes bringing our own food on the trip with us.

"I think we're good to go. Wait, did you leave a note?" I bob my head up and down, eager for our forbidden vacation. Indeed, before I walked out my front door, I used a magnet to stick the note on a clearly visible location- the refrigerator. It would be unexpected if my parents missed it, but that's not my problem, I informed them. Sure, they would be royally pissed, but at least they wouldn't be on my back, searching all over the state for two rebellious teenagers. Well, then again, I can't predict the intensity of their reactions.

Tobias does a run-through of his home, sprinting up and down the stairs, checking all the rooms and flipping various switches, making me dizzy. Before he can repeat it out of paranoia, I grab onto his arm, making him jump a little. In attempts to ease him, I flash him a nervous smile, "It's okay, we'll be back in a few days. Now let's go before we'll really have something to worry about." He calms down noticeably, and with a rush of courage and bravery, I find the strength to grab his hand, leading him out of the dark house, and out onto the porch.

Tobias doesn't acknowledge me holding onto him, and I am grateful, as my cheeks flush, though my body refuses to let go. He locks the door, and we stride over to his car, and only then do I realize how I just displayed superfluous affection, I'm deceptively leading him on. Not so long ago did I belittle him for having feelings for me, how different was that from what I did now.

"Yo! Earth to Tris!" I must have blanked out, as I barely see his hand swinging in my face.

"Yeah, I'm here. Let's go, c'mon." Soon, he floors it, and we drive off, leaving this pathetic neighborhood in the dust.

* * *

"I like this one. And you need to keep your eyes on the road." I stick my tongue out at him, and gloat my victory, mostly to annoy him. No way in hell will I agree to listen to his beloved shit that he holds so dearly in his heart.

"Fine. But can you charge my phone? I forgot to do it last night, and it's pretty close to dying." He hands me his phone, and I practically scream at him for not focusing on the road, and demand him to tell me where his charger is instead of him chancing an accident and looking for it himself. Once I pull it out, I zip shut the clear Ziploc bag, and plug his phone into the car charging outlet, next to the outlet with the GPS cable in.

"Are you hungry yet?" He answers affirmatively, and I pull out a fruit bar, and unwrap it for him, enjoying the look on his face when I shove it into his mouth. The roads are almost vacant, besides the occasional delivery truck. I draw smiley faces on the passenger seat window, using the wet window as a sort of canvas, and restart when the dew resettles on the glass pane. Tobias has a look of concentration on his face, and I am grateful he is somewhat a good, calm driver, unlike the road raging one I am. Or at least, I would be, if the DMV decided I was worthy of being a license-holder. Until then, I am dependent on others to drive me to and fro.

"In one mile, turn right onto S Central Avenue." The GPS feminine voice rings, and Tobias follows in suite, and every few turns I hear the GPS rattling off more directions that only Tobias can keep up with, while I wander away in my own thoughts. Not even half an hour later, I feel my eyelids drooping, and I adjust the seat back a bit more, and stare out into the fog. It would be inappropriate for me to sleep while Tobias is probably just as tired as I am. So I kick back my feet, and pinch my cheeks to bring a little blush out in them, so I don't look pale as a ghost.

My high ponytail starts to come down a bit, so I redo it, and pull my hood over my head. Travelling is great, I've always loved it- especially the silence at being left alone, and the tranquility that comes with it. The songs from the radio drown out the car, and I feel myself relaxing even with the annoying advertisements that come on occasionally.

I'm certain an hour has passed by now, and it's just easy cruising on the highway for us, so far everything has been auspicious.

* * *

"Hey, why don't you pull over here? We can take a break." I state, pointing at a nearby pitstop. Tobias obliges, and we pull into a spacious parking lot, and he shuts off the engine. I climb out, slamming the car door shut behind me, and I announce that I'm going to use the restroom.

Once I walk up to the building, I open the door, and quickly plug my nose at the horrid stench. Well, what did I expect? It is a public bathroom after all...

"Crap...", all the stalls are full, so I have to get on line. Just great...

Unfortunately, a burly woman and a girl with obnoxious pigtails whom I presume to be her daughter screeches in disgust at my "vulgar language" and stomps out of the facility. Well, at least the line got shorter.

I wonder how Tobias is holding up. The mere thought of it makes me scrunch my nose, and I am forever grateful my anatomy doesn't allow for urinals. Talk about awkward. But I cannot escape so quickly, because the monthly reminder of being a women can be downright annoying and stressful: oh no, did I bring pads, is there a stain in my pants, can I wear this today? I sigh a bit, and the woman goes out of the way to bump into my shoulder while she cuts in front of me and into the stall to my right. I roll my eyes in annoyance, but it seems like my luck hasn't run out, and the handicap-stall is open.

I'm finally able to inhale fresh air and the soap from the crappy dispenser smells quite pleasant. But it proves no match to the wafting scent of cinnamon in the air from the nearby Auntie Anne's stand. Yum.

Tobias catches up with me, and I take out a crisp ten dollar bill, and we both buy pretzels- his is sesame sprinkled with salt crystals, one and mine cinnamon. Typical.

After I swallow the last of my pretzel, I stand up and brush off the remaining crumbs off my lap which are really few, and follow Tobias back to the car. He powers it back to life, and I watch as the building we were just standing in shrink beyond my vision.

"I can't believe we're going to be juniors in less than two months. Can you?" He asks with the look of disbelief in his face. Although my posture radiates aloofness, it's a spurious one to hide the fact that I am just as astonished as him. Never did I imagine making it this far, not just in education, but mentally. The temptations of a quick and quiet way to go out haven't snatched me away and that in itself is quite a feat.

"Well, for you this is going to be a piece of cake. You're always on top of everything. Seriously, besides what you take for math, I don't even remember half the classes you took this year. I'm practically mentally defective compared to you." Although it wasn't supposed to be a complement and more of a ranting, I can't stop the redness that emerges on my cheeks and glows against my chilly appearance.

"I took Chemistry Pre-AP, US History Pre-AP, English 10 Pre-AP, and Latin 2. Honestly, it's not that hard. You're making yourself look stupid, not me, by going on about how impossible it all seems."

He inquires, "You take Latin? It's a dead language, why would you take it?"

"It helps with English and science terminology, not to mention a help with the SATs, or have you already forgotten about that?" I snap back at him, not appreciating the surprise interrogation.

Tobias must sense my unease and changes the topic, "Did you hear about that dress thing that's going on? Like what color it is?"

Oh no, don't even get me started. If he says what I think he's going to say, "I mean, it's obviously blue and black."

"It's fucking white and gold. How the hell is it blue and black?" A small smirk creeps up on his mouth, and I stare in shock.

"You're wrong."

I stick my tongue out at him, and he goes on talking about how it's clearly blue and black, but he's wrong. So wrong. It's white and gold. "You need to get in touch with your optometrist because that dress in that picture is most certainly not blue nor black."

"Alright whatever. I can't correct your eyesight." I pause for awhile, and decide that I was a bit too harsh. "So, what meme are you?"

"What _meme_?" He repeats with utter distastefulness. Suddenly I wonder if he actually explores the weird side of tumblr, or even has a tumblr at all.

"I guess I would say Pepe." I cut him off before he can continue, unaware of how shocked he looked at my exclamation of Pepe being my favorite meme too, and I think afterwards maybe he's not _that_ into memes. I open my mouth to speak again but snap it shut immediately before my unfiltered thoughts can leave my mouth. I was about to talk about the Pepe pick-up lines that I, although never had a chance to use them on anyone, knew.

I could imagine how catastrophic it would be if I accidentally said that last bit out loud, and how preferable this awkward silence is. The rejection is still a sore spot for the both of us, and would leave a bitter mark in our conversation and trip. I refuse to mention anything about it, and every now and then I have to rethink my words to see if it would trigger any sour memories. I've come pretty close to a disaster a few time, excluding now.

"Wait, what classes are you taking?" I ask, to alleviate some of the tension.

He chuckles, "Not nearly as glamorous as yours. Chemistry, Honors US History, Honors English, and well, Algebra 1B." His face reddens as he mentions the math he takes.

"Oh wow. Algebra 1B? So that means you won't even make it passed Geometry by the time we graduate. Wait, so you have two periods of math a day, and you're taking the second half of Algebra 1 this year? I guess you really _did_ need my help." We both laugh a bit, and I ask him his averages and so on, because it's fun to make fun of him a bit every once in awhile.

Truthfully, I know he's not a bad student, and he excels in a lot of other areas, whereas school is where I can display my grandeur.

Red and blue dots dance in my peripheral vision, and a hazy siren is on repeat. The sound gets louder and louder, until I see a police car tailing us, and the colors don't merge together like you think it would, but shine brightly despite the morning sunlight that fails to dilute the sharpness of the authoritarian lights. I am slightly bemused when Tobias mutter profanities under his breath, but only when the police car accelerates do I understand that we're in trouble.

Big trouble.


End file.
